Web of Intrigue
by Aquafall
Summary: Alternate reality setting. SenshiXShitennou tribute, Dark Kingdom arc rewritten. Both M.O. whisper stealth, both prefer secrecy and assign the other a face-value identity that would be unraveled as they are all entangled in a mess. Is "let it be" a good idea? [All characters belong to Naoko Takeuchi. I own the plot only.]
1. Every Night That Goes Wrong Began Right

**A/N** : hey, guys. It's been a long while. I'm still alive and running around. Life happened–life reminded me it existed outside of fanfiction realm, that it's ruthless and brutal and not worth going back to but having to anyway, then it took my dreams and hid them somewhere I couldn't find, and stuck me in a day–to–day routine that made me want to jump off a cliff. Somewhere in there I lost my drive to write. I forgot how to, in a way. So, this is my comeback. I've missed you guys, even if I'm terrible at putting words together to say it.

Last time I revamp this story; scouts' honor.

And as usual, italics refer to flashbacks, context–setting, and thoughts.

* * *

 **Every Night That Goes Wrong Began Right**

 _His body felt on fire, and not a source of water nearby to quench his thirst. His bleeding knuckles wiped furiously at his eyes, trying and failing to clear a vision path in between streams of thick, warm blood blended with grime and sticky with sweat, running nonstop from and around the open wound atop his head; yet without a clear head or line of sight, his other senses already confirmed what his eyes couldn't bear to witness: a scorched earth, bleeding with torn and trampled remnants of what were once fields upon fields of green grass and sunflowers, full of life, of hope and dreams; a multitude of dried–up streams, burning houses with their roofs caved in, thousands under thousands of soldiers in celestial uniforms laid unmoving, silent and hollow like their graves that not a single soul remained to dig._

 _Their last stand had fallen, their final line of defense had crumbled to dust, and their last man left standing near tore out his silver hair and screamed to the blackened sky a silent cry of anguish as he finally spotted the broken gold chain glistening with fresh blood near a familiar red bow, and not three steps away, the two people he cared for the most in this godforsaken world rested in a final embrace, as if they had each tried to shield the other from the worst of the blast and attempted to run towards him at the same time._

 _As he heard–too late, the red blossoming on his uniform whispered–footsteps from behind and a laughter darker than the darkest corners of the galaxy that he had come to detest, as he fell on the battlefield to join his loved ones, Artemis cast one final glance in the direction of the Lunar Palace, his last breath mourning not a magnificent empire fallen prey to a brutal assault, but a group of extraordinary people unjustly fell in the victory march of subterfuge, deceit and treachery._

He awoke in a sweat and instinctively wanted to wipe the sweat from his eyebrows, but the handcuffs biting into his wrists as he attempted to move them upward reminded him of where he was. _Captive,_ his mind whispered, and he let out a shaky breath as he recalled his abduction from the parking lot of his workplace– _wait, workplace? And how long has it been?_

Fear bloomed in his chest as the realization that he had no idea where or when this detainment started, nor could he recall anything about himself. As his eyes begun adjusting to the darkness, he took the opportunity–good thing they had restrained him in a way that allowed him to move his head around quite freely–to scan his surrounding and immediately noticed a man in a tattered suit across the room from himself. He flinched.

 _Is this one of theirs?_ The question popped up in his mind, though if questioned further he'd have to say he had no idea who or what this _theirs_ refers to.

 _Oh… that's me_ , he noted with slight relief as the figure across from him tilted its head as he tilted his head, stayed in handcuffs and– _leg cuffs? Where the heck am I?_ –same as he did, and was stuck in a crossbody X–shaped restraint– _is this leather?_ – just the same way.

His eyes narrowed in confusion. Parts of his body throbbed with a dull ache, and if his reflection's tattered clothing was any indication, he had not been treated very well during his stay, no matter how short or long it has been. And why was he wearing a suit to begin with? What does his job–and he cursed out loud in frustration, for he could not remember what he did for a living–entail that he had to don such fancy attire?

"Subject is awake, with a dirty mouth as usual". Out of the darkness on his left came a voice that could have passed for sultry in any other context, and he whipped to that side so fast his head spun.

"Oh, no need for the formalities"; responded a voice from his right. Again his head turned at a dizzying speed, and for a moment he wondered if these people had intended it that way as some sort of torture add–on. _Torture? Where did that even come from?_

Into the shaky light source from above stepped two slender figures, and he squinted to make out any identifying detail– _for what, exactly?_ The counter–question in his head got him stumped. _And why are identifying details the priority?_

"Hello, old friend"; spoke the one on the right, whom the dim light allowed him to recognize as a man in his 30s, with military–style platinum hair. "Remember us?"

"No; should I?"

"Nah", drawled the one from the left, who had fully stepped into the light. She was a stunning woman with fiery red hair, flowing past her shoulders in a messy kind of allure, contrasting with the black suit she wore and the handgun on her hip, her piercing icy blues bore into him in silent scrutiny.

"So if I'm not supposed to, and I don't remember you guys anyway, can you let me go? I really think you've got the wrong person…"

"There is no mistake, Art", the man snorted derisively.

 _Art…? Artie!_ And just like that, his memory came flooding back. He was running a con at a new gallery, since his usual haunt decided to stick a poster on the wall with all his go–to disguises photographed; he was the 32–year–old conman known for talking gallery personnel into letting him "take that painting for a walk to show his estranged art critic father visiting from Germany", with his credit cards, actually stolen and their expiry dates altered, left for insurance; he was known as Artie in his inner circle for the scheming that always involved a well–known artist of some kind; he… Why was he even here?

"Listen, if you're with Giovanni, tell him I had no idea his nephew painted that piece, I didn't mean to steal something that technically belonged to his family, and I certainly didn't intend to burn it! For God's sake, how was I supposed to know that dumpster was gonna be on fire two minutes after I tossed it in there? And I only meant to hide it…"

Silver Hair cut him off with another dismissive snort, and he fell silent. In this line of work, you do need to know when to shut up.

"We don't actually know this Giovanni, but it wouldn't be a bad idea to get in touch with that blackmail material. In the meantime, enjoy your stay."

"Enjo… hey, wait!" As sudden as they appeared, the duo withdrew into the darkness, and about a minute after, Artie heard a lock clicked into place, leaving him to his reflection as company.

"Thoughts, Beryl?", the man turned to his companion, his eyebrows slightly raised as he saw her fiddling with the onyx bracelet on her left wrist.

"The treatment seems to work," Beryl nodded absently, fingers still tracing the lock on her accessory. "He recalls _this_ life as we intended. The rest…"

"If you want it off, you could've just asked."

"Do you mind? It just… I'm not sure, feels a little heavy?", she explained, extending her wrist towards him.

The man laughed, "what, you can't handle a little weight?", as he effortlessly took the bracelet off her and hung it up on the rack nearby, where he had already left his after the door to the captive was locked.

And just as effortlessly, he deflected the amethyst blade that she produced out of nowhere, disarming her as he pinned her left wrist against the wall. "Not a wise move," he warned.

"I don't do well with jokes."

"You can't be that sensitive in this line of work, darling."

"Don't _darling_ me," she snatched her arm away, scowling. "I tolerate you, Aces; don't push it."

"A little teasing is hardly pushing it," Aces shrugged, but sent a wink her way. "Now, don't we have a date to keep with our favourite blonde?"

" _Your_ favourite, you mean. I have to pick up my other partner." Beryl snapped as she made her way to the elevator.

"Aw, I'm wounded," Aces smiled at the thought about the blonde and sent a mock pout Beryl's way. To him the smile might've been fond, but to others, including his companion, it looked like a gesture from a tiger to a cornered deer.

* * *

"'Bout time."

Mentally commanding herself while glancing at her wristwatch, the blonde carefully settled her glass down on the wooden dinner table, cautious not to make an unnecessary sound, and gathered up her belongings to leave without a trace.

There was not even that much to clean up to begin with. She had always packed light, and this time accompanying her in the continued journey there was only a purse large enough to contain a two-month-old golden retriever puppy.

Not that she had a habit of carrying dogs around in her purse, anyway.

"Sleep tight, dear."

She lightly brushed her roommate's copper hair as the girl stirred in her sleep. An empty glass was left forgotten on the carpeted floor, presumably it had fallen from the girl's hands as she fell asleep mid-drink; which the blonde picked up and placed over a newly written note on the table. They had only lived together for a while, yet she already found herself attached to the girl because of her cutting-edge honesty, a quality rarer than diamonds in their shared world of constant deceit.

"A girl like her shouldn't be here," the blonde thought to herself as she took her purse and headed for the door.

Half an hour later, the copper-haired girl woke up to an empty room and a note sitting neatly on her dinner table, her blonde roommate nowhere in sight. Curious and worried, she removed the glass from its position atop the piece of paper, only to discover a thick envelope underneath it all.

"Copper–chan,

By the time you read this, I'm already off on my way. I have businesses I have to attend to, people I can't afford to miss out on, issues I have to deal with personally.

I'm sorry for leaving without saying a proper goodbye (and for putting you to sleep, in case you haven't noticed). I never told you this – the only thing I ever said about you was that you were annoyingly but refreshingly honest – but I'm glad I've had the opportunity to meet you. You're one of those people I'm actually glad having run into.

A few weeks ago you asked me how I would know if it came time for me to actually do something good with my life. I still don't have that answer for myself. But for you, take this advice: leave. This is not your world. I know you resent your stepfather, but don't make the mistake I've made – the very mistake that brought us together as friends.

Ironic, isn't it? But I'm in no position to lecture you. I'm not, just for the record. I'm pleading – yes, you read that right – pleading with you to leave this cruel underworld. You don't belong here. Running away doesn't help, Copper. Face your problems head-on – and survive the encounter with it.

From someone who failed once and has fallen too deep.

PS: Don't worry about whatever you find in that envelope. I don't care about them. I care more about you being happy, and living the life you deserve."

The girl dropped the letter, and it took her a while to open the envelope with still-shaking hands. As expected, it contained hard cash.

"Thank you... Minako."

* * *

Leaning against a post in the empty parking lot, the blonde stole yet another slightly annoyed glance at her wristwatch.

The taxi was later than she requested. She had left the rooming house a little later than she planned to do, mainly because she wanted to make sure nothing was left behind that could identify her as a person. In her line of work, anonymity is the name of the game.

She had expected a waiting driver, yet she arrived to the designated spot finding herself alone.

He had known of her good looks from multiple sources, ranging from enchanted customers who spent hours describing a hour-glass figure while drooling rather unconsciously, to bewildered colleagues of his who had absolutely no idea how she managed to slip out of their fingers without a trace; nor were the latter able to explain the mysterious, unmistakably feminine scent that lingered in any space they stood in, whether during or long, long after their report was delivered. As he was speeding on his way toward the destination, silently cursing his watch for choosing such a great time to die, words streamed through his mind about her various areas of specialties and the counter-move for each and every one of them.

 _No way I'm running more than ten minutes behind schedule_ ,–he commanded himself, accelerating.

Three minutes later, he pulled into the almost empty parking lot, already spotting a blonde standing all by herself at the other end, near the back entrance to a city-famous restaurant, mostly for its seaside view. Even though it was a windy summer night, she was sporting a short-sleeve yellow blouse with silver strips, a pair of dark khaki, a violet-shaded scarf flowing on her shoulders, making perfect background for her golden hair. As he came closer, the general description "good looks" of hers occurred to him as less than an understatement. She had an elegant, aloof and almost regal appearance, topping up by a sparkling crown-shaped bobby pin on the left side of her head.

He stepped off the vehicle, holding the door open for her in an apologetic gesture. He was five minutes late.

And she pointed that out for him before the standard apology could reach his lips:

"You're five minutes late," she allowed him a brief glance at her watch, her eyes cold. I remember having specified that the taxi should pick me up exactly at ten o' clock tonight.

"My sincerest apology, miss"

She shrugged, "No need to. No one can be punctual all his life. He himself may strive to be, but his clock may die whenever it feels like."

"That's a pretty good guess", he thought, smiling absent-mindedly and closing the door after making sure she had got seated properly. She indeed seemed friendly enough, but what he had read from the stacks of reports on his desk still reminded him of how disastrous a brief encounter with her, especially her before retirement, could turn out to be. Still, he hoped this tiny chance could be the start of a decent conversation.

 _Where could I possibly have seen him before?_ , a concern flashed through her mind. That gentle smile looked familiar.

She had wanted to dismiss it as silly, for how many airlines she had used, how many parties she had been escorted to, how many hotels she had stayed at, to date, she could not even remember. A taxi driver could easily fit in that mist.

Still, there was something not quite right about this particular one.

Thus the ride proceeded in silence. Regretting not having made a conversational attempt right at her joke, and stumbling on the question of which approach would be the best, he decided to make up for his late arrival by speeding and succeeded in getting her to her destination five minutes before the estimate time. She looked a bit surprised, and the tip was more generous than his usual fifteen percent standard; which could be a habit as well, he thought in retrospect. Taking one last glance at the outrageously marvelous hotel, he pulled out of the driveway, heading to a nearby location where many yellow cabs as his concentrated.

He took out a black device and a pair of earphones, plugging them into his ears. A prolonged _beep!_ informed him that it was ready and functioning.

"Sir, I'm afraid I do not have good enough news to deliver."

"Proceed anyway."

He detailed his silent ride.

"Well, well, well,"–the familiarly sarcastic voice chimed in–"seems like our guy needs his social skills updated."

He ignored the comment, noting a rough voice in the background on "Zoicite, mind your own business", and proceeded unfazed as squabbling again began in the background.

"Sir, what should my next move be?

"If the target is more likely to forget who you are, let her be. I'd arrange for you to be reassigned another time."

"Roger that, sir."

They both hung up. But the sound of his chief's words, target, lingered in his mind. Somehow he did not like it this time, although generally he preferred how his superior had always referred to the VIP in their plan as targets. The more impersonal the operation would be, the better.

* * *

 _Back at the five-star hotel._

The doorbell rang. The door opened, revealing a man in his bathrobe with an eager expression, his welcoming hand extended toward the blonde.

The door closed without a sound behind them.

"I always love the way you dress, Mina–chan," he breathed, resting his chin on her left shoulder. You always look so different from the rest of them, don't you?"

The blonde winked back, and he stepped ahead, pointing toward the nearby armchair, where a blood red gown lay.

"Turn around," she winked, "don't ruin my little surprise for you."

 _Ah, I have time for a little fun_ , the man pondered quickly as he complied. _The knock–out gas would start in five anyway_.

The blonde raised her hand, a metallic device sparked on the tip of her fingers.

 _Fifteen minutes later, on the hotel's rooftop_.

Having already accomplished her assigned task, the blonde was waiting for another, less ordinary ride to appear out of the midnight starry sky. She thought over the scene she had left behind, in the presidential suite the naïve client had re-booked at her request. All was neat–no clue whatsoever could be traced to her real intention in appearing there, she was sure of it. At most, local authorities would merely attribute the case, like any other, to a high–profile recreational service gone wrong. And her client, being high–profile himself, would be far too embarrassed–terrified, even, if he discovered what she had done while he passed out from the impact of her sedative needle, in addition to messing up his belongings–to ever speak out.

The roaring sound of engines hovering above brought her back to reality, and she took hold of the helicopter rescue ladder, climbing her way to secrecy skillfully as if she had been subject to such unfeminine operations for a long time. As the saying went, practice made perfect.

"How was it?" The main pilot asked without turning around.

"Piece of cake," she laughed softly, the first relief she had allowed herself in an entire day.

"You did not get the wrong file like you did last time, did you? This was sudden, I can't believe we didn't have time for a plan... I was so..."–the co–pilot piped up, anxiety in her voice.

"No worries, it was a clean job", the blonde smiled. "And...", she added "that last time was a century ago," the blonde sighed dramatically

The main pilot chuckled to herself. "At least she got what we needed", she thought while monitoring the helicopter. Their five-member group works most efficiently with a mixed sense of responsibility and light–hearted humor. Perhaps that was why they were summoned this particular case.

With only a buzzing noise that nightlife Toronto could easily drown out, courtesy of the genius co-pilot, the helicopter skillfully descended into a readily-opened rooftop of a high-rise apartment complex, its lights lowered to blend in perfectly with the midnight blue sky. Sightings of helicopters of course were common in the relatively affluent capital city; yet seemed quite uncommon at that time of the day, and the last thing an investigation team wanted was to unnecessarily call attention to themselves. If the truth behind this was any like what they had expected, the level of notoriety would be quite enough.

The rooftop closed without a sound. The next building to match its height was miles away, and the surrounding residences would just break their necks trying to find signs of a newly landed helicopter. Not that anyone would bother trying anyway, since as usual, nobody took notice. It was a perfect plan. Extraordinary incidents were too extraordinary to be proven–imagine a helicopter disappearing into the top of a high-rise apartment complex in the middle a crowded city–and thus their secrets were safe.

The cabin doors slid open from both sides; and the blonde was the first to jump off from the left, followed by the petite co–pilot's descent on the right. After double-checking the engine, the main pilot was the last to leave her beloved means of transportation. Her chocolate curls, previously hidden from view by the seat, bounced on her back as she jumped off on the left side and almost bumped into the blonde standing right in front of her.

"Jeez, Minako, you're gonna get knocked out if you keep standing that way."

She followed the blonde's longing glance all over the room.

"Glad to be home, aren't you?"

The blonde simply nodded.

"Everyone! Mako-chan, Mina, where are you guys?", a happy voice called from the other side of the helicopter.

"Coming," the blonde grinned and ran around to meet the caller, while the brunette main pilot just smiled.

Seeing two familiar blondes hugging each other tightly, she shook her head affectionately before enveloping both of them in a bear hug, her advantage coming from her own exceptional height.

"Mako–chan, you're suffocating me!", the two blondes whined in unison.

"Oops," the brunette said unapologetically, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

The petite co–pilot, meanwhile, had removed her helmet, revealing her ocean blue hair, completed with deep blue eyes. Despite having been the first member to be inducted into the team, she was still not used to open display of affection, being the reserved character she was. She would, however, die for her teammates if need be.

The reservations vanished, nonetheless, as both blondes turned toward her with identical pouts.

"C'mon, Ami-chan, group hug!"

Giving in, the bluenette named Ami walked toward them with open arms, a motherly smile on her face making quite a strange sight as it seemed so unfitting for a young woman her age.

"Where's Rei–chan?" the other blonde asked as they headed indoor together.

* * *

 _Meanwhile_.

A silver Jaguar slowly maneuvered its way through traffic, drawing admiring glances and curious attempts to peek into its windows as it stopped at the red light signal. The driver, a woman with waist–long ebony hair, had an aloof aura; yet the moment her eyes met those of an unwanted, peeking passerby, the latter quickly scurried away as quick as if he had just touched ice.

Ice indeed. Rei Hino was the defiant daughter of a famous politician, who despite repeated orders to essentially mold herself into a trophy bride, settled for a secretary job at one of the major multi-national corporations based in Tokyo; and when threatened with disavowal, revealed her personal saving account of stock investments over the years, proceeding to move out on her own into a shared penthouse half way across the world with her childhood friend, who was then happily married to her university acquaintance Chiba Mamoru.

Inherently distrustful of men, she was the ice queen in the office. Having the Chibas' backing, whose business outmatched several of the Japan-based national companies, nobody dared to even flirt with her; and she gave any who tried a cold shoulder.

It was such a scandal a while back, when a cooperation plan between Mamoru's business and the multi-national company she was exchanged to, as a coordinator, fell apart. Allegedly, the mild-mannered Mamoru punched the head of the other corporation at a cocktail party for unknown reason – or undisclosed for that matter. She was subjected to nasty name-calling when she chose to remain working for the rival, a Jadeite Jefferson, citing the unfinished contract as the driving force for her decision. Ever since then, Mamoru reportedly never talked to his lady friend any more, even though she was seen shopping with his wife, the ever–lovely Usagi, several times a year.

Many people criticized her of the perceived lack of gratitude, blaming the Chiba couple's separation on her "betrayal". Still others, most of them women having fallen for Jefferson's womanizing charm unreciprocated, accused her of backdoor affairs with her direct supervisor.

"Personal assistant?" they often snickered. "Maybe even more personal than that".

Being the illegitimate child of a renowned politician as she was, Rei Hino was seasoned to such rumors, all of which she responded to with a cold, piercing, confident gaze that sometimes sent chills down the spines of those who dared to whisper such things in her vicinity. When asked by tabloid newspapers about her boss, she remained cordial, knowing better than to give them basis for a sensationalist headline; but her cell phone knew better.

She eyed the ringing cell phone with disdain.

"Two texts from PITA", the screen read. Unknown to most, Jefferson's information was saved affectionately on her contact list as PITA, a.k.a. "pain in the ass".

"As if being nearly recognized by him wasn't enough," she grumbled to herself, accelerating, recalling the chance meeting at the five-star hotel.

Earlier, she had sneaked into the main control room at Ami's signal, erasing all surveillance data within fifteen minutes while all guards were knocked out with the special gas their genius prepared. Utilizing all herbal sources combined with advanced technology, the gas had short-term amnesiac by-products on whoever unfortunate enough to inhale it, plus its regular sedative effect.

A perfect accomplice to their plan.

Pressing the fancy button to the elevator, Rei Hino smirked to herself. The guards would remain knocked out for at least fifteen minutes more, and all surveillance cameras had been turned off, the tapes replaced by identical ones they stole a few days earlier.

Nobody would identify her as an unusual redhead woman traveling up to the management level, especially when she walked past the reception as another, with obviously dyed platinum hair. Problem was, neither of those was her real hair color.

The familiar "ding!" sound informed her that the elevator had arrived at that level. The metallic doors slowly opened, revealing a redhead in an extremely short skirt and fishnet stockings having trouble helping an athletic man standing up on his own feet.

She walked in, playing oblivious to the scene before her, though her mind registered the other woman as Beryl, coordinator of another cooperation plan with Jefferson's corporation.

Worse, they never quite got along at work or at social gatherings. One of Beryl's favorite pastimes, in fact, was to make snide remarks about Rei's upbringing. Fancying herself an upper–class lady, Beryl's behavior in fact illustrated that she was no more than a spoiled rich kid.

Rei pressed the button for the garage level, sneaking a glance at the obviously drunken man. And held back a frown. _Jefferson?_

To top it all up, she realized to her dismay that the elevator was going in the opposite direction.

Making quick calculations in her head, she refrained from a sigh of relief. All that just meant she would have to race out of the parking lot to avoid the reactivated surveillance cameras. No problem there, once the nuisance was out of sight.

Suddenly Beryl lost her balance, probably due to holding a man twice her size while standing in high heels, and by some bizarre turn of events, Jefferson slid across the floor, hitting his forehead on Rei's side of the elevator.

He looked up, rubbing his forehead, and gave her a drunken smile. "Hey there lovely."

She just scowled back. He reached out toward her; but stopped at her glare.

"Ooh, lovely temper."

Jefferson frowned, alcohol invading his breath. Rei tried her best not to scrunch her nose.

"Reminding me of someone..."

Her glare held firm, and she looked him dead in the eyes.

All was over in less than two minutes, the silent play ending with the elevator arriving at his–or Beryl's–chosen level in the hotel. The doors closed again, and Rei took a sigh of relief.

Something still bothered her.

His eyes. Jefferson did not look as drunk as his posture projected.

Rei did not even bother to open the text message as she headed toward the high-rise apartment complex she knew her teammates had most likely arrived at about ten minutes ago.

"What now?" Rei asked out loud to no one in particular when she noticed "PITA" calling.

Still, she could not decline her boss' call. They both knew that. And she was annoyed precisely because of that.

"Good evening, Rei speaking, how may I help you sir?"

"You never responded to my text."

"Sorry sir, I didn't notice." And though neither would admit it, they both knew she lied.

"Sooo..." he drawled, "what's up tonight?"

"I'm certain my personal plan is in no way related to the workplace sir."

"Aww, you're no fun."

"Is there anything I can help you with sir?"

"I'm drunk. Very drunk. Very very drunk."

 _As if I don't know that_ , she grumbled inwardly.

"Can you come pick me up?"

"Pardon?"

"Can you come pick me up? I'm completely wasted."

"I have to say sir, you don't sound that way to me. And I'm certain "picking up your drunk boss" is not on the job description or my contract."

"It will be there tomorrow if need be."

"That means it's not there tonight. Excuse me." She hung up, annoyed, knowing he would likely mock her about it the next day as always.

* * *

 _At the penthouse atop the high–rise apartment complex._

"I'm hungry now," Usagi whined, her sing-song voice rang from the living room to the kitchen where Ami was standing.

The petite bluenette was the last to step out, and the most careful one to double-check that the button to operate their helicopter storage was safely hidden behind a small shelf of kitchen towels. Their own fingerprints were the only access. "Maybe that's why no one took notice", she remarked to herself, contented with the little trick. When activated, the so-called vanity mirror in their kitchen slid aside without a sound, opening up space for entry; when deactivated, the whole area just looked plainly vain for having an extra mirror in the most unlikely of all places. Not that they would have visitors nosy enough – or vain enough, for that matter – to attempt to pull closer such an installed mirror, anyway.

She joined the others, noticing that Usagi's childish behaviors had stepped aside for her command mode. It was one of those things she admired in one of her best friends, and probably a trait adored by others as well: her ability to stay the same, true to who she was inside, while still keeping her head up whenever needed. In contrast to Mina's icy façade, Makoto's consistent bugger-off appearance, Rei's diplomatic mask and her own inquisitive silence, Usagi seemed the most unaffected by life's ups and downs, someone who would laugh under the piercing sunlight and still dance if the rain came pouring down right after that.

Ami snapped out of her usual philosophical moment when Mina took out the USB disguised as a shiny bobby pin on the front of her hair. It still amazed her how her teammate could wear such a heavy object, not in a literal sense, but which carried enough information to be confiscated at any high-tech checkpoint; and move around freely as if she never felt weighed down by responsibilities upon her shoulders. Ami knew her friend and teammate was burdened by duty, duty Mina felt she had to carry out smoothly in compensation for her past.

In fact, they all were–otherwise they would still be carefree souls without a moment of worry in the world.

Connecting the device to her laptop and projecting the images onto the projector screen, Usagi gestured toward the clock on her nearby table:

"According to what we've collected so far, the transaction would be taking place three evenings from now at the harbor they've used in the past."

"Fools," Makoto commented harshly, "they should have known better by now, after all we've busted them... how many times again?"

Automatically, Ami opened her mouth with the answer ready; but Usagi waved her off, and she in turn was cut off by Mina, the latter's facial expression a little thoughtful and curious at the same time.

"Why a harbor, though? I mean, apart from the crap about darkness and deep water being their allies, why do they always carry that out in the open? What if it rains?"

"Jeez, Mina," Makoto grinned, "we're never gonna finish the briefings at this rate. But after all, that transaction is your duty; feel free to reflect upon it", she ended her sentence with a wink. Mina pouted, but asked hopefully ayway:

"If the duty's already assigned to me, can we party the night away when Rei's back, then?"

"I have an assignment due in two days' time," Ami protested.

"Meaning you have one day and a half left to refine the twenty pages you already wrote three months back, genius" a voice rang out from the entrance to their living room, and the poor protester turned around to see a raven–haired lady in her most intimidating posture.

"Or you can study after we've all crashed the couch," Usagi suggested, a mischievous spark in her blue eyes, and Ami sighed.

"Oh, did you have enough time to stop by the convenience store, Rei-chan?" Usagi turned to the last teammate to arrive at their shared space.

"No," Rei shook her head. "I almost got caught by PITA".

"Pita... oh, you meant…"

"Yeah, the pain in the ass of a boss."

"What do you mean, 'almost got caught'?"

"Ran into him and Beryl in the elevator."

Makoto's eyes darkened. She met the woman once, randomly on the street, and came home with a coffee–soaked t-shirt and a flaring temper, barely contained.

"I've never liked her."

"Me neither," Rei shrugged. "I'll fill you all in later. Now who's gonna get the popcorn?"

"Ask Mina," Makoto and Usagi flashed identical grins.

"Uh... according to the calendar it's your turn Mina" Ami timidly chimed in.

"That counts as bullying, everyone", she continued while already making her way toward her private quarter to change into new clothes.

"And yet you obliged."

Mina glared at Rei, who met her gaze squarely as if she had not made the sarcastic remark. As Ami once explained, constantly being at each other's throat is the only way those two could feel comfortable showing they cared.

"Be right back!"

* * *

 _In front of the apartment complex._

The silver-haired cab driver stared into his rear view mirror. He had not expected to see her again so soon, only a couple of hours after their parting at the five-star hotel.

She walked straight to his parked vehicle, knocking on the window.

"Hey, do you mind taking me to a convenience store real quick? I'll pay for the round trip fare."

Mina said it all in one breath, only to notice the familiar hair color under the street light as he stepped out to hold the door for her.

"Huh, it's you again," she remarked as he started the engine.

"Nice to see you again, miss..."

"Call me V."

"Is that shortened for something?" he inquired, sounding as innocently curious as possible. "She went by the same alias among her clients", he thought to himself.

"Nah. And your name is...?"

"Call me Kale".

"Nice meeting you, Kale."

"Nice meeting you... uh, V."

"Yeah," she laughed suddenly, "miss V. has a funny ring to it."

Her laughter tinkled in his ears long after she changed the conversation topic to weather forecast. All the while, a thought was nagging at the back of her head.

"Where could I have possibly seen him before?"

* * *

 **A/N** : So that's it! Last time I try fixing the timeline of this thing. Plot is the same, in summary. Thanks to all readers!


	2. Just the Calm before the Storm

**Just the Calm before the Storm**

The man stirred in his deep sleep, slightly shivering from the cold midnight breeze coming in through the ajar sliding door to the balcony. All lights were off in the presidential suite, save for the moonlight coming in from outside. The hotel itself was overflowing, guards were back at their assigned posts with no recollection whatsoever of themselves being knocked out by some mysterious gas and a slender woman with obviously dyed silver hair.

Science had worked its magic at the command of a certain bluenette.

The hotel was buzzing with people departing and arriving, yet no one took notice of a shadow landing on the balcony of the royal suite in which the man was sleeping, nor did anybody recognize the shape of a climbing anchor hung loosely on the railing as the stranger slid inside without a sound.

Eying the sleeping man with disdain, the stranger rose to his full height. He was an athletic–looking young guy with short silver hair and eyes so cold it seemed possible to freeze almost anything with a glance.

"Pig", he muttered to himself, scanning in the messy room and especially the opened suitcases lying about on the floor.

He frowned. Something was amiss. Within seconds he was at the sleeping man's bedside, and without hesitation he yanked the latter's ear.

"Get up or die," he hissed, and his prey's eyes snapped open.

"What the... Mister Aces? What are you doing here?"

"I'm doing what you failed at," Aces hissed. "What I would like to know," his voice turned threatening, "is why your room looked like it had just been robbed, and you clearly don't have the person you promised me."

The other man shot up from the bed so fast he toppled over and out of Aces' grasp. Rubbing the slightly swollen ear, he took in the sight of his messed–up room and almost immediately paled.

"No way."

"Yes way," Aces' face was inches away from the other man's, his eyes took on a hypnotic appearance. "Explain."

The other man blinked a few times, an action he began to regret at once as he opened his eyes to a gun held to his forehead.

"Please..."

Aces took one step back in disgust as the other man sunk to his knees, hands lowered in a prayer to Gods unknown that had abandoned him, and the smell of urine filled the air.

"Quite the coward aren't you," he lowered the gun a fraction of an inch. "Now talk."

"I planned to meet her tonight at 10:15 pm," the other man began from the puddle on the floor.

"You mean she bailed?"

"No, she did show up, in a sunshine–silver blouse with violet–shaded scarf", _who cares,_ thought Aces irritably, "and I did invite her in, but after that..."

"And the gas kicked in five minutes after she stepped past the threshold. What gave?"

"I…"

The gun moved from one end of his forehead to another.

"I was trying to get her relaxed. She flirted with me and told me to turn around as she had a surprise in store for me, so..."

"So you obliged? What, you figured, hey, let's get a squeeze in before I have to deliver the package?"

"I… I really thought I was having an advantage, sir, I really didn't mean to screw up..."

Aces narrowed his eyes. "Shut up now before I paint the wall with your blood." He took another glance at the scavenged suitcase. "Was your suitcase opened before or after Mina came in?"

"I... I'm sorry?"

The stuttered attempt at delaying the inevitable was precisely the unspoken answer Aces wanted. In one swift movement, he turned, his short silver hair shone in catching a streak of moonlight as the shot rang out. A gentle breeze cooled the still–smoking barrel, and Aces approached the bed where the other man lay emotionless.

"Useless pig," he muttered as he inspected the bullet hole driven through the top of the wooden queen–sized bed.

A movement outside the balcony reached his ears, and without turning around to verify he coldly greeted:

"Beryl."

"Aces".

"Before you asked, the pig fainted as I fired the warning shot. He's not dead yet."

"So we couldn't get a hold of Mina– _chan_ this time?" Beryl's voice took on a sarcastic note.

"She knocked him out and escaped. With some of our data, it seems. I haven't looked into that yet."

"That?"

"The suitcase. One of the most stupid places to store sensitive data."

"Must have been bloating in his inflated sense of power, eh? Oil tycoon's paper pusher," Beryl pretended to contemplate, "what's to boast about?"

"I take pride in not understanding him and his _kind_ ," Aces remarked coldly, scanning the night stand with his watch, which was emitting a greenish beam of light. "Check that suitcase carefully, will you? It's highly unlikely she left a fingerprint, but very likely that she took off with sensitive data; and I'd love to know exactly how sensitive they are so I could properly punish the pig."

Fighting back the urges to shudder at the sudden sinister undertone in Aces' voice, Beryl knelt down to inspect the widely opened suitcase and hid her face from her partner in crime in the process. Having worked alongside a psychopath for years did not mean one could get used to said psychopath's constantly changing emotional undercurrent.

"As expected", Aces thought to himself when his on–scene analysis revealed no fingerprint whatsoever left on any object on the night stand, or the wooden surface itself for that matter.

Just his style. Years ago, he knew he had trained Mina well.

* * *

 _At the front of the apartment building._

"Thanks a lot for the ride, – Mina jumped off the cab, leaning in just to smile at Kale.

"Just doing my..."

She cut off his automatic response.

"Oh, don't be a downer will you? I know I paid you for the ride; still, don't you dare deny that you enjoyed my company." She grinned mischievously at him, and Kale found himself smiling in response, which later he would try to justify to himself as a mere psychological reaction she brought out in him, one that he had no control over.

They made direct eye contact for the first time, still smiling, instead of a brief glance at the rear–view mirror or a casual once–over.

 _Where could I have possibly seen him before?_ , the concern that was drowned out during her time in his company instantly came back nagging at the back of her head.

Kale was struck by a sense of familiarity that had nothing to do with his time spent reading investigation files about her.

"Snap, my friends must be starving and wanting to strangle me now," she half–whined, waving to him and turned toward the door.

"Have a nice evening," he nodded at her back. For some reason, he felt a strange sense of longing as she disappeared from view. As usual, however, his sense of duty took over and he quickly reversed out of the parking lot.

* * *

"Everything is still intact, including the code," Beryl concluded, closing the suitcase.

"Highly unlikely," Aces turned, leaned down a little to look his partner–in–crime dead in the eyes. "Are you certain nothing turned up missing?"

"Yes," Beryl replied, meeting his gaze squarely. Years of working with him had taught her to never show fear. In return, Aces gave her a small smirk and a nod of approval. He knew, ever since he recruited her, that the redhead was tough enough, or good at looking tough at least. He hated dealing with hysterics.

"Take that useless pig with us, then."

Beryl glanced at the sleeping man in disgust.

"If I wasn't on duty..."

"Same here. Remember that last time you met him awake? He nearly melted onto the floor upon seeing your strapless gown."

In a matter of seconds, Aces had approached her before she even noticed; his arms slid around her waist.

"Believe me, I was so mad back then."

"Sure you were." Beryl did not bother to wrench herself out of his grasp. The so–called display of affection would pass as quickly as it came. There had been a kind of cat–and–mouse game going on between them ever since he recruited her; but she knew behind the sugar–coated words lay a trap. The physical attraction was present, but Beryl was not about to fall for a psychopath's charms.

She never met Mina, the woman their boss was trying so hard to hunt down, yet she knew that because the blonde gave in to Aces too soon and too whole–heartedly, her demise almost came earlier than expected. If that damnable group hadn't swooped in at the last second, she wouldn't have lived to become the thorn in their side currently.

The redhead glanced around the room one more time and was just about to call for backup when she noticed a neatly folded laptop on the adjacent desk.

"Aces," she gestured with a gentle shake of her head; and still trapped in that embrace, they moved forward, strangely in tune with each other, and Beryl placed her hand inches above the laptop. Faint heat was still emitting from it.

As a silent compliment to the observation, Aces placed a seemingly passionate kiss on Beryl's neck before taking hold of the laptop. She did not respond, acting as if nothing had just happened; but inside she was puzzled, to say the least. Sure, they had been flirting back and forth before; yet Aces never bothered to cross the boundaries.

Something was off.

She stole a glance at her partner–in–crime, noting a strange glaze of nostalgia in his eyes, which was quickly replaced by a predatory gleam; and realization came to her as quickly as tidal waves hitting the shore in a storm.

Mina had not only been Aces' apprentice: they had also been _lovers_ before the latter decided to forcefully ended the partnership.

"Typical psychopath", Beryl thought to herself as she duly noted how the man was turned on by the idea of hunting his ex down.

* * *

"I'm back!"

Rei looked up from her cell phone, one eyebrow raised.

"Did you just raid the poor convenience store?"

"Where's everyone?"

"Data analysis."

Mina pouted, throwing herself onto the opposite couch and began munching on her own snack. It had been a long day, and even a longer period during which she had gone undercover in the sex trade.

She had no idea the day, or rather, the tiring night, was about to stretch itself.

* * *

"Wh... what just h... happened?"

"Your coward ass fainted at a warning shot," Beryl replied, not even bothering to spare a look at the man who had fallen for Mina's charms.

Suddenly the redhead turned away from the laptop Aces was working on and headed for the bed, her hips swaying seductively. The man looked on, hypnotized by her movement, until his trance was broken by a blade to his throat.

"Wh... what is that? Why is it such a weird color?"

"Did you just call my favorite color 'weird'?"

"N... no, of course not, madam, what I meant was... metal... Metal is usually not purple... is that toxic?"

"Would you _really_ want to know?", she drawled, pressing the tip of the blade to the base of his throat. Blood began to trickle down.

"N... no. No, please, no!"

With one twist of the blade, a circle was marked off his exposed neck; and before the prey could scream, the redhead silenced him by dragging the blood–stained blade over his mouth.

"One vowel and the pleasure of lip–sucking would be lost from you forever."

His eyes widened.

"That", she traced her long fingernails on the fresh, shallow wound "is for refusing to take a clue the other night."

"Nothing. Nothing!"

Alarmed by her partner–in–crime's exasperated tone, Beryl turned to him, her blade holding steadfastly over the other man's lips. "Aces?"

Beryl held back a shudder as she recognized the building anger in his eyes, coupled with something darker she herself dared not name. In an instant she was by his side, her left hand placing warily on his shoulders.

"Aces", she swallowed the lump rising in her throat, trying her best not to flinch as her eyes caught the beastly sadism flashing by his green pupils.

"Aces", she repeated, applying a little more pressure onto his shoulder. Her partner–in–crime turned to look at her, his glance contained a kind of wildness she had never seen... unless Mina was mentioned. The Mina whose life Aces attempted to end... and who escaped physically unscathed. Hell, even her knee–length silver–blonde hair was intact, or so they heard.

"Aces", she spoke through gritted teeth, and indeed as they said, fourth time's a charm. The murderous glint in his eyes subsided, and the calculating edge returned.

"She introduced herself to you as Mina?" She turned to the other man.

"I'm sor...? Yes! Yes! Mina–chan, call me that; that's what she said!"

She nodded at him to continue, her eyes still shot daggers at him, while her hand stayed on Voxley's shoulders to keep him in check. By now anything could send him overboard; years of experience had taught Beryl about Aces' tolerance. Especially when they had been so certain this time: Mina had even gave her real name to the client.

"I ran into her at a bar with another girl! A brunette!" the man blurted, and Aces' eyes lit up like wolves' in a night hunt.

* * *

A/N: Hey guys, thanks for reading, following and favoriting! I had to replace the first chapter because I wanted to change its title in the document - it's too long to be called "Prologue", IMO, and won't let me.

Special thanks to princessanastasia6467 for the friendship offer, littlegirldmadeof, lashun136, and RD for reading.

And EB! you're alive! I'm back, see? Thanks for the compliment! Can't believe you still like to read this thrice-revamped old thing :) and yes, why would I leave out the Makoto-Nephrite scene? I'm horrid at humor, so if it's entertaining, it stays!


	3. A Scream in the Night

**A Scream in the Night**

"I can't believe we don't have a dishwasher yet; this is the 21st…" Mina was cut off by the blazing ringtone from her pocket. Everyone went silent. They didn't expect any call tonight. Eying the display screen, the blonde frowned and placed her fingertip on her lips before hitting the answer button.

"Copper–chan? How did..." she was cut short by her former roommate's loud sobbing. "Copper–chan, what's wrong?"

"'Ello, darling".

Chills ran down Mina's spine as soon as she heard the all–too–familiar male voice on the other line. Hitting the speaker button, she tried to hold the cell phone as far from her as possible.

"What's wrong, Mina–darling? Don't recognize my voice?" the icy tone began to taunt her, unaware, or plainly didn't care that the entire room was listening in with baited breath.

Mina forced out:

"Hello, Aces".

* * *

The on–site superintendent did not even have time to greet the blonde as she dashed down the stairs, her odangos bouncing on her head. She ran for about two blocks when a blue Berlinette with tinted glass screeched to full stop right in front of her, and within seconds the streets again became deserted.

From the other side of that road, a red sports car rolled down its window.

"Chief," the auburn–haired man continued to speak into his headset "she just got picked up for whatever reason on a blue Berlinette".

"A... what?"

"An Alpine A911, sports car, color blue, sir," he clarified, slightly annoyed. "Huh? Roger that".

He reversed, and proceeded to head in the direction the other car just disappeared into.

* * *

 _Somewhere on a roadside._

"Kunzite speaking. Excuse me? Alright, send me the location." The white–haired cab driver quickly started his vehicle, and drove into the night.

* * *

 _In the blue Berlinette._

Resting her head on the rear window, the blonde eyed Tokyo by night with faraway eyes.

"Copper–chan..."

 _"_ _I've never told anyone this story," the short–haired girl shook her head, reaching for another cigarette from her companion's front pocket, but was stopped mid–way._

 _"_ _Trust me," the accompanying blonde shook her head, "if you haven't smoked before, taking up chain smoking all of a sudden ain't such a good idea"._

 _"_ _But Mina..."_

 _"_ _No buts," the blonde called Mina shook her head firmly, but could not help chuckling a little at the copper–haired girl's pout. It reminded her so much of a close friend of hers, one whose side she had to leave in order to infiltrate this world, a world she wanted nothing to do with. Rei was originally intended for this task, but the raven–haired girl flatly refused on grounds that she could not live a double life with that annoying boss of her following her every step, for whatever reason._

 _Everyone knew another reason, though unstated, for Rei's refusal; and Mina could not help volunteering, citing her thirst for adventure and excitement as justifications._

 _Deep down, however, everyone also knew the real reason the blonde threw herself into tasks after tasks: aside from being driven by a desire to atone her past, she did not want Rei to re–live the hell so reminiscent of her childhood, the hell she herself was currently in._

 _She stepped into this world expecting nothing but the worst from people, as she had always done; yet unexpectedly found a golden heart._

 _"_ _Mina..."_

 _"_ _I said no cigarette," the blonde turned sideways to look at her copper–haired companion, her gaze firm as that of a blood sister's._

 _"_ _Nope," the short–haired girl pouted again. "I meant to say I wanted to go inside, it's getting cold."_

 _"_ _Then be my guest."_

 _"_ _But I don't know how to tell off people... yet," the short–haired girl pouted at Mina's challenging look._

 _"_ _Keep in mind ignoring someone is in itself an action," the blonde smiled._

 _"_ _Yeah, which many took to mean 'I'm yours if you're insistent enough'," the copper–haired girl snickered._

 _"_ _Alright, let's..."_

 _Mina's gaze suddenly caught the sight of a black car so familiar with her turning around the street corner._

 _"_ _That has to be it", her eyes slightly widened with surprise. Countless nights she had gone to bed with the exterior of that car so well–studied it was almost burned into her mind like hot iron. "But he's not supposed to... oh crap," the call she had to miss earlier because Copper–chan was crying on her shoulder silently, the call of which she felt the vibration but could not pick up because she was in mixed company; both of those missed calls had to be from her teammates, frantically trying to reach her._

 _"_ _Copper," she smiled at her companion "I have somewhere to go; do you mind leaving by yourself?" She knew the car was approaching, she could not risk having Copper seen with her; the girl was innocent._

 _The short–haired girl was prepared to protest, but her gaze met Mina's, and even though she did not understand much, she understood well enough to simply nod and walk away._

 _Mina held in a sigh of relief, quickly checked her hair by the reflection on a nearby store window, and walked back into the bar._

The sound of snapping fingers, obviously intended to catch her attention, woke the blonde from her musings.

"Finally," the driving brunette let out a dramatic sigh "just when I thought my fingers were going to break. "Catch," hitting the brake to stop at a red light, the brunette threw a squared device over her shoulders, aiming for the back seat.

Her companion caught it easily. "Is it me or you actually aimed for my forehead?" she complained, but her face had lit up a little.

"Not this time, there's no way I'm gonna ruin Ami's minute disguise. And you too, stop tugging at those odangos, they'll fall off in no time from the looks of it and neither I nor you are an expert at that."

Stopping at another red light, the brunette shook her curly ponytail at her companion, whose sight was now fixed onto the screen.

"It's _not_ your fault, Mina" she said quietly. The blonde looked up, a grateful expression on her face. The brunette nodded in satisfaction and was about to accelerate when her perceptive eyes took notice of a red flash in the sideview mirror.

A bright red sports car raced by.

"Eyesore," muttering, she reversed.

"Oh no, you're not doing that to me," the auburn–haired man in the red sports car eyed the blue Berlinette speeding away as reflected in his rearview mirror "Not on my watch."

He reversed as well.

* * *

"So... what's your name?"

Tracing his pale fingers along the short–haired brunette's chin, Aces repeated his question for the millionth time, his eyes glowing in a cruel light.

"I told you already. They call me Copper."

"Yes darling, we've already decided the nickname must have come from your hair color. I meant your _true_ name." Ace smiled while tightening his grip, his hands having slipped from her chin to her throat; and in one moment the girl thought she saw death flashing in front of her eyes.

"Hey, don't strangle the poor rat, at least she has a backbone," Beryl gave a curt laughter. Aces released the short–haired brunette, whose hands instantly flew to her own throat, coughing uncontrollably, but in her attempt to recover somehow she still managed to fiercely glare at her captors.

"I like her," he stated, and the redhead glanced at him, surprise flashed through her posture, but her boredom resumed as she noticed the apathetic gleam in his eyes. Aces just acquired a new mind to mess around with.

In a darker corner of the same room sat the businessman, apparently having recovered from his fear of having been knocked out twice in one night, both of which conducted with little effort. Glaring daggers at the silver–haired man and his redhead partner–in–crime, he reached for the handheld device tucked away safely in his back pocket, punching in three digits that any ordinary, law–abiding citizen would refer to in cases of unlawful confinement with a weapon.

9–1–1.

* * *

 _Twenty minutes to the arranged meeting time._

"Oh hell," Makoto eyed the rearview mirror for what seemed like the millionth time that night.

"What is it?" Mina looked up sharply from her PDA. Ami's habit of playing games to kill stress had definitely rubbed onto the blonde.

"Some idiot is trailing us," Makoto adjusted the mirror so her companion could catch a glimpse of the red sports car behind them. It was hard to escape detection however, when theirs were the only two vehicles on the shortcut and the latter had been going in the same direction for at least ten minutes.

"Better safe than sorry," the brunette muttered to herself, making a sharp right turn in the process.

"To no avail," Mina shook her head, subtly informing her driver that the sports car had begun its own turn around the _corner_.

"Strange, that's a car I actually _don't_ recognize," the brunette narrowed her eyes, accelerating. Mina frowned. Makoto knew almost each and every motorist in Toronto personally, what with her connection to the sand–haired biker gang leader she herself had only met once.

Eying the fake diamond ring that complete her disguise as Usagi that night, an idea occurred to her as she recalled Ami's caution during the one–minute briefing she received before leaving for the meeting with Ace.

 _"_ _Now, I know it doesn't look that real," the bluenette said as both blondes rolled their eyes at the same time, duly noting Ami's perfectionism, "but that's not just some black market forgery complimentary to your disguise, by the way."_

Mina grinned.

"Just don't throw off your disguise," the brunette commented, catching on as she saw her companion took out a piece of napkin, rolled it into a small ball, and lowered the window.

The second the small ball of napkin flew out of the window like a random act of littering was also the only second her right hand, including the ring finger was outside; and in a wink of the eye she pressed her pinky finger onto the supposed "diamond", withdrawing as quickly as when it all began.

Mina took off the ring, slid it gently passed the screen of her PDA, which glowed and continued to as she typed in a code along with some simple commands. A picture of the unmarked sports car showed up on the faintly glowing screen, which she presented to Makoto as their car stopped at a red light.

"You sure you don't know that car?"

Makoto shook her head.

"Either that car knows of your reputation and wishes to challenge you without being subjected to the wrath of Haruka's team, or it's some random idiot not knowing what he's gotten himself into, or Usagi's boyfriend wants to check on her again."

She forced down a gulp, adding by way of conclusion.

"There's no way it could have been... _him_. Aces likes things delivered to his doorstep, he wouldn't bother sending someone after us, not when we're on our way to meet him anyway."

"He doesn't know where you are, Mina," Makoto shook her head, quelling the blonde's silent fear. "That's what he's trying to find out."

Making another sharp turn, this time on the left, the brunette narrowed her eyes again as she glared at the rearview mirror.

"Soooo..." the brunette drawled, so much unlike her, "some idiot wants a race? Wrong time, sweetheart".

* * *

 _Back at the rooming house, ten minutes to the deadline._

"Taking their time aren't they?" Aces growled, growing impatient by the second as his watch kept ticking, counting down to the meeting.

"How much time do they think they have?" Beryl shook her head; years working with Ace had taught her impatience was as much infectious as any other ordinary feeling.

"Or," malice shone in Ace's eyes, "Mina- _chan_ didn't feel the urgent need to skip her sleep tonight and come rescue some rat she left behind."

"N... no," Copper shrunk back as if she had just been slashed with a knife, Aces' carefully chosen words certainly having the intended effect, "no, she won't ever ditch me in your clutches. No way. No way." Her voice grew firmer as she lifted her head to meet his eyes squarely and voluntarily the first time, the short–haired brunette repeated in a confident way.

"Ah," Ace's grin was growing wider by the second "another lie we desperately want to believe in, eh?"

Her shoulders slumped lightly.

Aces had taken notice of an occasional glimpse of uncertainty flashing through her hazel eyes as she thought her time was coming up, and the blonde was still nowhere in sight.

Another cat in the rain, another game for him.

Appearing bored with the whole scene playing out in front of her, Beryl briefly closed her eyes, recalling an all–too–familiar memory about a certain redhead being interrogated by Aces, of standing her grounds, of betrayal and lies intertwined in a truth so distorted she could never see through. Seeing Ace sizing up the short–haired brunette, the redhead thought she saw her own past reenacted before her eyes, this time with a different actress, yet the villain never seemed to change.

In his own dark corner, the businessman held absolutely still, careful not to interfere with any of the signal transmission. If without saying a word he could convince the police dispatcher about his situation, preferably if his captors mentioned anything incriminating; he could easily get off the case and cut business ties with Ace, forfeiting any special fee in the process.

On the other end of the line, the female dispatcher also held her breath. If the situation was so grave not even a word could be heard from a victim, she needed a statement, a reason, an excuse even, to send over a police car to the location she was already tracing.

* * *

"What the _hell_ ," spitting the last word in his exclamation through gritted teeth, the auburn–haired driver of the unmarked sports car hit the accelerator again, eying the rearview mirror frantically. How in hell did he end up on the highway with what seemed to be every biker in Toronto hot on his trail?

Minutes earlier, he was keeping a safe distance from the blue Berlinette, the mysterious car in which his chief's fiancée was riding to God–knows–where; even though he had to admit it was a little too hard to stay undetected when the only two cars heading in the same direction on the streets that night seemed to be theirs and his.

Minutes earlier, he was silently complimenting himself for catching up with his intended target after a dozen sharp turns. Freshly back to his hometown from the States, on his first assignment to his homeland, little did he know the blue Berlinette he was trailing belonged to one of the most notorious prodigy racers in the place he last stayed ten years back.

Minutes earlier, after a particularly difficult short trip through a matrix of alleys, he found himself hitting the brakes as dozens of headlights shone onto his windshield, and seconds after, he found himself reversing hastily, tracing his own steps back through the spiderweb of turns he just took in order to catch up with the blue Berlinette, which seemed to have disappeared the second he was put in the spotlight.

After him, countless motorbikes roared, claiming the streets.

He still had no idea why he ended up on the outskirt highway.

* * *

"Poor guy," Makoto chuckled as she hung up the phone, looking over her shoulders to meet Mina's eager gaze, "he's running for his life at the moment, according to Michi."

"Michi?" Mina was confused for a minute. "Oh, you mean the teal–haired girl dating your scary ex–leader?"

"Haruka isn't all that scary," the brunette grinned.

"Uh huh", both smiling fondly at the recent memory.

 _"_ _Here, dial the number I told you," the brunette threw her phone over the shoulders "and put speakers on."_

 _"_ _Would she recognize me though?" wariness flashed through Mina's eyes._

 _"_ _She can't box your ears off over the phone," Makoto laughed, taking another turn as the red sports car was still patiently tracing their steps. Mina pouted, but did as told._

 _"Mako? Not dead yet, eh?" a distinctly feminine voice carrying a larger–than–life undertone answered._

 _"Uh..." the blonde eyed her companion, not sure how to respond. Makoto only laughed._

 _"Driving aren't you?" the voice continued "Then who am I having the displeasure to speak with?"_

 _"It's Mina…"_

 _"Aw, lucky you Blondie, this time I can't box your ears as greetings" the voice gave a friendly laugh, followed by a smacking sound, and the faint voice of someone else chiding "don't scare her like that!"_

 _"Hey Michi," the brunette raised her voice a little, glad to see someone keeping her sand–haired friend in check._

 _"Save me some dignity... ouch!" the background noise answered her greeting, followed by someone clearing her throat. "Alright, what can I do for ya tonight? Rally?"_

 _"Kind of," Mina answered, and began to explain her situation, exerting precise caution with her wordings so as not to drag any other innocent being into the brewing mess they called a mission._

 _"Perfect timing, I'm getting bored."_

 _The phone disconnected._

 _"That's Haruka for you," Makoto grinned at a bewildered Mina via the rearview mirror._

* * *

 _In the rooming house, seven minutes to the deadline._

"Would you like to take a look at the time, my dear?" Ace leaned down to look the copper–haired girl in the eyes, malice oozing through his sugar–coated voice.

"She will come," the short–haired girl replied, more to assure herself than to actually respond to the question "I know she will."

"Ah, I won't be so sure," he brushed away a stray strand of hair from her face, twisting his cold smirk into a friendly smile. "Won't you take a little drink in the meantime, though?"

"I'm not taking anything from you," Copper–chan glared at her captor.

"I like that temper," Aces smile grew wider, the cat–and–mouse game of slowly breaking down his prey piece by piece was one of his favorites. "But I'm concerned for the well–being of my hostage too, don't you think? If she really cares for you the way you said she does, she won't be too happy at the sight of you neglected by me, now will she?"

Right on cue, Beryl approached the copper–haired girl with a glass full of water on her hands and an identical smile to Ace's perfectly feigned friendliness.

"Poor girl, she must be thirsty. Really strange isn't it," she turned to her partner–in–crime, innocence veiled her face; precisely the kind of wolf–in–sheep's–clothing innocence that someone as naïve as Copper–chan could not detect. "Isn't that girl's team known to be always coming prior to time?"

Catching the redhead's whiff, Aces nodded with a puzzled expression, maintaining his friendly smile.

"You must be thirsty," he lowered the glass closer to the copper–haired girl's dry lips.

"Why are you two so nice all of a sudden?" their prey almost whispered, her changed wordings did not escape her captors' detection.

She was slowly breaking down.

"If she really cares the way you said she does," Ace repeated, his friendly smile never fading. "I wouldn't want to face her wrath when she found her beloved Copper–chan, who she left behind a large sum for, who she encouraged to leave this world and restart, neglected."

Something in Ace's friendly smile, in his faithful repeating of her own grateful description of Mina hours earlier, in the spiderweb he carefully weaved so their fragile friendship would be shaken, hit the copper–haired girl worse than his violence earlier.

"After all," Beryl smiled, her friendly demeanor matching Aces. "What kind of friends leave her friend behind, right?"

Her lips shivering from thirst and from the slow shattering of something deep in the darkest corner of her heart, Copper–chan closed her eyes against her better judgment, letting tiny drops of water from Ace's glass comfort her dry throat.

The silver–haired man met his redhead companion's gaze with a victorious smirk.

 _Got her._

In the other corner of that room, the businessman still held his breath, praying his phone did not run out of battery before backup came.

On the other end of the line, the female dispatcher hastily gestured for a coworker of hers to dispatch a police car.

Because the confinement room was a closed space, Aces' earlier use of the word "hostage" had resonated, giving the dispatcher the justification she needed to take action.

* * *

"Just around the corner?" Slowly bringing the car to a stop so as not to alert the whole neighborhood, Makoto asked over her shoulder. It was more of a rhetorical question, since it was in that car, same driver, that Mina had been dropped off into her undercover assignment. To the blonde, that meant both "Are you alright?" and "You are not alone".

She nodded to the rearview mirror in response, clutching the PDA on her hands, a move that did not escape her companion's perceptive eyes.

Scanning the dark alley they were in one final time for good measure, the brunette hit a small button that looked out of place next to her steering wheel, and took in a deep breath as she knew a new car paint color was spreading out over her vehicle.

It was just one simple optical trick Ami figured out after hours of killing time by analyzing wavelengths of street lights and comparing their influence on color vision changes during different times of the day – the blue–haired genius' idea of "entertainment". Long story short, she came up with a liquid chemical compound that could affect the eyes' color receptors, provided that they were operating under street lights in the first place, and confuse them enough to lead to misidentification of the exterior paint.

"Those odangos look weird on you, just saying."

Makoto got a glare for her effort.

"I'm supposed to be on the run from Interpol, remember? Can't waltz out there looking over my shoulders all the time, it'll interfere with the job."

"And disguising as the former fiancee of a company director who just had to send off one of his soon–to–be wife's best friends to work for another company with potentially shady ties was your way out?" Makoto raised her eyebrow.

Mina stuck out her tongue, and they both grinned at each other before exiting the vehicle. Together, they creeped closer to the street corner, scanning it before actually turning in, and froze.

The street, usually deserted, had two police cars positioned, one in the middle and the other at the other end. Officers in full uniform were all positioned to fight. An ambulance was parked on the same side as the rooming house, but closer to the dark alley; and looking out under the street light they could see the silhouette of a long–haired paramedic leaning against the tinted glass window at the front.

Any word that could have left the blonde's lips was drowned out as two flashlights shone at them from behind.

* * *

"Well, well, well, they sure are taking their time today aren't they?" Beryl's remark was not a direct jab, but it was clear whom she was referring to.

"She won't leave me here," Copper–chan shook her head, still taking in water from the glass Aces was holding close to her lips, which for some twisted reason was leaning against her skin in an angle odd enough for her to only sip one drop at a time.

Planning on throwing a cut–throat comment or two into the mist, the silver–haired man stopped frozen on his track as he caught a movement of their other hostage from the corner of his eyes. Taking the glass away from the short–haired brunette as swiftly as possible, spilling a few drops in the process, Ace approached the stocky man and snatched the device from the latter's futile attempt to hide it behind his back.

"911, huh?"

Aces' voice took on a dangerous note, with him turning the phone over and over in one gloved hand. The redhead braced herself for what she was sure was to come–years of working alongside him had taught her when, and more importantly, how, to expect what–but Copper–chan's eyes was almost glued to the psychopath's every movement.

She saw him putting the other hand into his pocket.

She caught a glimpse of a pistol.

She noticed his gun–holding hand had leveled with his shoulder.

One last scene burning into the businessman's mind, and one first scene of its kind that Copper–chan witnessed, was images of Ace pointing the pistol at the former, one view from behind, the other frontal.

A loud "bang!", blood plus God–knows–what–else splattered onto the wall behind the other hostage's chair, and the short–haired brunete screamed.

It was one minute to deadline.

* * *

 _Outside, present._

The officers paled, and with one swift move one broke down the front door.

The street was not a particularly long one, and around the corner Mina heard that scream she dreaded to hear. She gritted her teeth, preparing for a mindless sprint out of her hiding place when she felt two flashlights concentrated on her.

Having been under siege mostly by the fear of activating her mild photosensitivity, Makoto burst into action as she felt the light being directed away from her; and with one jump, one kick, whoever was trying to handle them single–handedly with the aid of two flashlights was down. Not even bothering to take one look at her unworthy opponent, the brunette turned back in time to see her companion disappearing around the corner. She took off after the blonde in full speed, and catching the latter's arm, attempting to drag her back into the shadow in silence, but all was too late.

The long–haired paramedic had heard the commotion in the dark alley right across from her ambulance, and shouted after them, loud enough for the one in charge of the second police car to take immediate notice.

"Law enforcement, freeze!"

Makoto dashed to her prized Berlinette, hitting the remote key and jumped into the driver's seat.

Frozen in space, Mina watched as her companion skillfully reversed the car, careful so as to not touch even a hair on the unconscious officer, whose flashlights were still working well.

Frozen in space, Mina watched as the lone officer from the second police car dashed toward her.

Copper–chan's scream was still echoing in her ears, reminding her of a past gone astray, when it was precisely a similar scream, cut off by a gunshot and followed by erratic laughter, that woke her up to the psychopath her then–beloved mentor truly was.

The screeching sound of the Berlinette reversing again on the spot, backing into the space right next to her woke her from the recurring nightmare. With the door wide open, the blonde hopped into the passenger's seat, not noticing her disguise had fallen off revealing the stream of golden hair reaching down to her waist. She gave the officer one last look of assessment, and a sudden breeze pushed her hair backward, creating a curiously nostalgic stance for anyone who had ever known her in any sense of the word "know".

Taken by surprise, the officer who gave chase stopped on the spot, prompting the long–haired paramedic to ditch her ambulance and rush into the dark alley to verify any unseen injury.

One minute was enough for the Berlinette to disappear into the night.

Gaze glued in that direction, the officer twirled a strand of hair around her finger, amazement flowed out in a whisper:

"Venus..."

"What's that you said, Tomoe–san?"

As if awoken from a dream, the officer took off her cap and shook her head gently as she usually did in times of stress. Under the only source of light from a second–story window nearby, her hair looked the color of a deep purple.

"Nothing, Meioh–san", she said, turning to look at the long–haired paramedic beside her.

In reality, she had no idea what she just said.

* * *

 _Forty–five seconds before Makoto made her move, forty seconds to deadline._

"Shut up," Beryl held her amethyst blade up to the short–haired brunette's neck, "and stop trembling. I don't intend to hurt anyone tonight, but writing it off as an accident when you're shaking this badly ain't all that hard either.

With a kind of strength she did not know she had had until then, Copper–chan looked up at her, eyes wild, but otherwise calm, and the redhead was amazed at the amount of willpower displayed in front of her.

"He does pick out the best, doesn't he?", she glanced toward her partner–in–crime, who was approaching them at an incredible speed.

"Wrap it up."

It was all he could say when the sound of the door being broken down hit their ears.

Seeking Aces' agreement by eye contact, Beryl raised the blade; while the poor girl in front of her closed her eyes, feeling oddly calm, expecting the worst to come.

It was without a sound.

* * *

A/N: So, bonus chapter tonight, partly because I feel bad about the short chapter 2, and partly because this is all revamped, so it's little trouble. Enjoy!

Also, for someone who watches a crapton of Criminal Minds, I really don't know well police procedures, so if there's any mistake, excuse me, and feel free to nicely correct me. And for a Canadian city, the Japanese characters still address compatriots in their usual manner, because if you've ever met an immigrant, that's what we do amongst our own.


	4. and a whole lotta Remorse

**... and a whole lotta Remorse**

* * *

"Mako, I need to go back. I promised her... she has no one else to count on. I _have to_ go back."

The brunette answered by accelerating.

"Makoto!"

"It wasn't your fault."

"It was!"

"I'm not playing this with you", Makoto glanced over her shoulders "If it was a mistake, it was of ours all. We should have been able to contact you earlier about that change of schedule."

"Then what's with your little racing game? You could've..." The blonde choked on her own words.

"You don't know how losing a dear friend feels like, – the blonde shouted, as close to losing her mind as possible – you _never_ had a friend before us anyway!"

Makoto slammed the brakes at a red light. "Out", she said quietly, throwing a cold glance over her shoulder. "You want to bear our team burden alone, I won't keep you. But that voice in your head, that's telling you all this is your fault, that isn't your conscience. _It's your ego._ "

Mina jumped out, watching her companion turning left without waiting for the green light, then took a few steps forward on the pavement before tumbling onto the street in tears. Deep down, she knew Makoto did not mean hurt. The brunette was a down-to-earth, tackle-the-problem-head-on kind of person, and just wanted to help, the only way she knew how, clumsily though it might be.

Engulfed in her tears, tears of regret, tears of recurring nightmares, tears of locked–away memories, she was only jolted back to her senses as a yellow cab screeched to a full stop in front of her.

"What in the hell are you doing?"The driver practically jumped out of his seat, the late–night breeze caressed his long silver hair.

"V?"

Mina looked up, blinking a few times to clear her vision.

"... Kale?"

* * *

 _Back at the rooming house, thirty seconds after the front door was broken down._

"Living room, clear."

"Bathroom, clear."

"Storage room… BOMB!"

They were five steps away from the broken front door when a loud explosion sent the rooming house up in flames. The closest to it took the worst impact, but everyone was otherwise safe. The fire department was called on scene, both the long–haired paramedic and the female officer who had chased after Mina provided first aid, neither remembering the blonde from just a little while back.

Out on an unknown street, Makoto shot up from leaning on the steering wheel, her eyes tracing the sudden outburst of smoke from the corner of the city.

Mina ignored her ringing phone, her eyes fixated onto the reflection of the burning flames on the midnight blue sky, and beside her in the driver's seat, the silver–haired cabbie calling himself Kale trained his gaze on her, while appearing to look just over the top of her head at some invisible spot near the window.

Like a professional rounding up a mark would.

* * *

 _Well, isn't this quite an unexpected development?_ The silver–haired driver thought to himself, his eyes not leaving the sight of his blonde passenger, herself quiet and motionless on her seat as if frozen in time and space, her gaze fixed on the faint smoke still emitting from the rooming house afar.

Thirty minutes earlier, he was stuck in traffic while coming in from the outskirts of the city, a rather unusual occurrence for Toronto on a workday's night; the cause for which, as he finally discovered upon communicating with the blond genius back at headquarters, were dozens of bikers breaking their routine, seemingly deadset on heading out to a midnight rally.

"Wait a sec, iceberg," the person on the other line suddenly cut off their conversation, and right afterward there was the distinctly familiar sound of a headset being picked up off an invisible table, followed up with a standard monotone, devoid of the cheesy humor that just filled it seconds earlier.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"I see. Well, madam, this is not within our jurisdiction, seeing as they are heading out to the city highway, but I can certainly transfer you to another..."

"Madam, if there is no imminent threat to your physical or psychological well–being, I'm afraid you would have to contact another department. We only handle emergencies on this line."

"I understand the noise woke you up, madam, but if they have exhibit no threatening behavior toward you as an individual or toward your family as a unit, aside from passing by, then I'm afraid…"

"Madam, please calm down, or I'll be forced to disconnect the call."

"Madam, please."

"Madam, in case you need it, here's the number of the local patrol who would gladly investigate the bikers who exerted their legal right to make full use of the street on which your house is located."

Moving slowly in accordance to traffic, Kale had no other choice than to listen to the rest of the phone call, which went no more interesting than the first part, seeing how it only consisted of monotonic answers and the faint echo of some old woman yelling. Needless to say, he was as glad as the dispatcher when the call was over.

"I'm back, iceberg," the familiar voice of his genius teammate buzzed in his ears. "It seems the cause for your traffic jam is a bunch of spontaneous bikers".

"That's all?" the silver–haired driver shook his head in disbelief.

"Well, that and some random truck broke down midway to the city center," the other line quickly amended.

"And I'm supposed to head to the other side of the city?"

"At least you're out and about," the voice sighed "I'm stuck here answering random phone calls that attempt to claim non–emergencies as emergencies. What part of "life–threatening conditions" do they not understand, anyway?"

"Wait a sec, iceberg. Someone's signaling for me."

By instinct, the silver–haired driver knew something was up, and this time, gravely important. And he found out in 10.

"Kunzite, I don't care how, you've gotta get to this address immediately."

"What is it?"

"A hostage situation occurred right at _her_ old place. We'll have someone meet up with you," his correspondent added as an afterthought, most likely knowing beforehand what he would do to get out of that sticky situation.

Hanging up, the silver–haired driver calling himself Kale–and whose codename for God–knows–who was Kunzite, a mineral no less–eyed the sidewalk, his rearview mirror, the line of cars in front, respectively in assessment of the situation. Slowly but steadily wrapping his hand around the accelerator, he backed up to a pre–measured point, where his taillights were just inches away from the next car in line, whose driver honked in response. Controlling the steering wheel with his other hand, Kale made a slight lean onto his right, then drove straight up the pavement nearby, careful not to hit any of the bystanders who were staring at him open–mouthed.

Ignoring the repeated honking from other cars in line and some shouting from passers–by, he slid off the sidewalk and turned left in the middle of the intersection before any lights could turn green, narrowly dodging a car making a legal right turn.

He did not slow down until his eyes met a blinking car sign pointing down a dark alley. In less than five minutes later, an identical yellow cab left the shadow, with the same silver–haired driver on board.

If anyone were to pay attention, however, they would notice a slightly different license plate, with only one number off the mark.

* * *

Eyes still fixated on his blonde passenger, the silver–haired driver ran through a couple of solutions in his head. Just his luck, getting out of traffic jam only to get stuck in another sticky situation, with the only upside being the fact that he had just picked up the mission's target. And it seemed, his designated destination was blown up–trained eyes like his could recognize an explosion from anywhere–drawing her tears dry and replacing them with a near catatonic state starkly different from the bubbly, engaging self he had just had a pleasant talk with about an hour earlier. Not that he would ever admit to his chief and colleagues how much he had enjoyed chatting with her about nothing in particular. It took loads of effort to coax a decent conversation out of a stoic person like him, let alone talking nonsense, and yet she managed without even consciously trying to achieve it. Just because he had reported his second encounter with her in a neutral tone, however, did not mean he was going to let it slide when she showed up so... _broken_. If anything, her files and whatever his team could gather about her by words of mouth indicate a brilliant, natural–born actress who always maintained her composure in a flawless sort of way.

 _She can't sit that way forever_ , he thought to himself, eying the digital screen next to his steering wheel, then cast a glance in the direction of what he was sure was his designated destination, where only faint lines of smoke glazed a portion of the sky.

"V? Hey, V" he reached out, brushing her shoulder lightly, attempting to take her attention off the seemingly–extinguished fire. She turned to him, traces of tears still visible, glimmering in the faint street lights.

"V... uh... you alright?"

Kale mentally smacked himself. _Of course she's not alright, she's fucking crying!_ He was never good at consoling people, and especially women at that.

"Uh... V, can I maybe take you home?"

 _Great, now I sound like a creep_ , he shook his head disapprovingly to himself, pointedly ignoring the rising feeling that his own behavior at that moment resemble someone talking to his childhood crush more than an... well, whatever he was.

"V?" he lightly squeezed her shoulder, realizing with a start that his hand had been resting there ever since he first spoke, yet she did not seem to mind its presence.

She blinked a few times in response, and locked eyes with him the first time, the look on her face still indicated slight disorientation.

"Kale?"

"Yes?"

She fell into silence, breaking eye contact to scan her surrounding, and all of a sudden exclaimed with surprise:

"I'm in _your_ cab?"

"I picked you up when, uh, when I found you in the middle of the street there," he pointed, avoiding any phrasing that includes _hysterical_. His mother had drilled into his head since he was a child how dismissive "hysterics" sounds, and he could still feel her approving eyes whenever he followed her lesson, treating all emotions, no matter how unfamiliar, as valid. That empathy had gotten him further with some informants than the tough, no-nonsense, get-to-the-point-I-don't-have-all-day attitude some trainees liked to adopt.

"Aren't you supposed to be working?"

"I'm actually on my way back to the garage,", he thought fast. He never liked lying, but it came with the job.

"Oh. Thanks for stopping for me".

"No problem".

"Uh… would you have time for a little chat?"

"Would you join me for some coffee?"

They locked eyes in surprise at the lines ; and moments later, she smiled. Kale saw the pleasant lady he enjoyed talking with earlier–not that he would ever admit it–slowly returning in front of his eyes.

"I take it that's a yes, then?"

Mina, or V as she introduced herself to the silver–haired driver and most of her clients, nodded, adding as an afterthought.

"I'll have to let my friends know first".

"After you're done," he started the engine "could you text my suite–mates to tell them I'll be back late? I don't want them up too late waiting for some hypothetical beer I'm supposed to be bringing upon my return."

"Sure," brushing a stray strand of hair aside, Mina eyed her own reflection in the wing mirror, "I do look like a mess, don't I?"

"A little."

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Alright, a bit."

" _Really,_ " she drawled in sarcasm while taking out a comb and began to fix her hair.

"Yes, just a little bit. I was taught to never speak disparagingly about a woman's appearance".

"Wise teacher", she laughed and withdrew her phone from inside her pocket and dialed the penthouse's number.

"Hey, it's me" she spoke as soon as the other line picked up "I'll be late. Talk to you later, 'kay?" Hanging up without waiting for a response, Mina turned to Kale, a friendly smile on her face.

"Would you like me to text your friends now?"

"Yes, please. My cell is just around here somewhere; most likely there." He gestured toward the cup–holder. The blonde switched on the tiny flashlight dangling off her own cell phone, asking without looking up, "Didn't you say they were waiting for beer?"

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry," she continued searching. "I'm just curious as to how someone can wait for beer consciously while asleep already."

 _Characteristically observant_ , he thought to himself.

"I'm the one waking the up every night after work, and yet they'll be the ones nagging at me first thing in the morning if the night before I didn't shake them awake with a pack of beer."

"Found it" she held up the phone triumphantly "and what would you like the text to say?"

"How about, _I'll be late. Don't bug me, or no beer?_ "

"Alright, then" she gave a small laugh, proceeding to send the message as requested. Unbeknownst to her, "beer" was the code for "intelligence" among him and his colleagues. Unbeknownst to him, aside from actually not wanting to go back to their shared penthouse right that moment, she also did intend to figure out why he looked so familiar to her by after–hours socializing.

* * *

 _Elsewhere._

"They won't be trailing us I don't think," Beryl commented, leaning her head against the car window.

"I'd like to see them try" Aces hissed threateningly, his eyes also fixated on the faint traces of smoke afar, which by that point had faded, nearly unrecognizable from the city lights.

"So what do you want done with her?" she gestured toward the back seat where the short–haired brunette from earlier was lying motionless, her question coming out without the usual rising intonation often seen in regular inquiries. He picked up on her tone as expected, his face betraying no emotion.

"You don't sound like you need to ask in order to figure out what to do."

"I don't."

"Why bring it up, then?"

"Not to annoy you, of course." Beryl was the only one among them allowed to speak to him that way and getting away with it unscathed.

"What for, then?" he snapped, but there was no trace of annoyance in his voice. Intrigue, instead. He was curious to see how much of him his redhead partner–in–crime could understand. Or rather, how much she _thought_ she could comprehend.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself earlier," Beryl shook her head, referring to their quality time spent with both hostages in the rooming house.

"I was."

"Then why eliminate a future source of entertainment?"

Aces' eyes took on a predatory gleam.

"Because I have you?" He took her startled hand, planting a kiss in the middle of her palm. "That's not even funny," she commented, withdrawing her hand and opened the car door to step outside. Aces followed suit, a new game brewing in his mind.

"We'll let her go this time," she leaned onto the car hood, her arms crossed with a faraway look. To be fair, she did not want her hand bloodied that night, literally or figuratively. When your partner–in–crime is an uncertified psychopath, however, that could be hard to explain or justify unscathed. Even harder when said psychopath just missed his intended prey due to some idiot requesting the police.

 _"_ _Shut up," Beryl held her amethyst blade up to the short–haired brunette's neck "and stop trembling. I don't intend to hurt anyone tonight, but writing it off as an accident when you're shaking this badly ain't all that hard either."_

 _With a kind of strength she did not know she had had until then, Copper–chan looked up at her, eyes wild, but otherwise calm, and the redhead was amazed at the amount of willpower displayed in front of her._

He does pick out the best, doesn't he? _, she glanced toward her partner–in–crime, who was approaching them at an incredible speed._

 _"_ _Wrap it up."_

 _It was all he could say when the sound of the door being broken down hit their ears._

 _Seeking Aces' agreement by eye contact, Beryl raised the blade; while the poor girl in front of her closed her eyes, feeling oddly calm, expecting the worst to come._

 _It was without a sound._

 _Without a sound, her blade sliced through the rope tying Copper–chan to the wooden chair, and she yanked their remaining hostage up by the latter's necklace._

 _"_ _You're choking her," Ace pointed out as he dashed toward the back door, and by one last glance all over the room, Beryl suddenly grasped why the silver–haired man was in such a hurry._

 _The unmistakable tick–tock from the corner of the room where the corpse of the businessman was located, albeit with its head blasted off. The telltale red gleam from the glass display at the front of the object itself. The rapidly counting down digital clock that held her gaze for less than five seconds._

 _She withdrew her amethyst blade once again, whispering to the barely conscious girl being held standing by her own necklace:_

 _"_ _Quiet and follow me."_

 _The brunette nodded, trying her best not to be paralyzed by fear. She also caught a glimpse of the timer._

 _The redhead broke into a run out of the rooming house, with Copper–chan following suit._

 _Even though she just got kidnapped by the same people, the short–haired brunette would rather be with them than inside that dreaded place, where she just witnessed a human life being ended without mercy or hesitation, where she had to endure the past few hours without anyone on her side, not even Mina._

Not even Mina...

 _Jumping into the back seat of the black car, the last thing Copper–chan saw was an object being raised high in the air and felt a numbing pain on the side of her head._

 _The short–haired brunette was knocked unconscious while the car raced away, the last thought on her mind was directed toward a certain blonde who appeared to have failed to be there and protect her as promised._

"You didn't have to hit her that hard," a whisper caressing her ear and an arm sneaking around her waist shook Beryl back to the present. The redhead glanced aside, mild surprise graced her face as she noticed Aces standing unusually close to her with a half–smirk, half–schoolboy–grin that had captivated so many girls, including a younger Mina.

It was part of his usual behavior to be turned on by the thought of pursuing "the one who got away" as he referred to Mina– _chan_ ; however, Beryl stopped chalking all that up to his psychopathy the second she felt his lips tracing her collarbone.

 _What the..._ , she froze on the spot, not quite sure how to react, both not wanting to send him off the handle and not wishing to continue with the makeout session he had initiated. Quickly slipping out of his arms and flashing him a half–hearted smirk over her shoulder, the redhead advanced toward the passenger door, her hand already on the handle with full intention of releasing their brunette hostage as she felt his arms slipping around her again.

"Are you out of..." she snapped, turning around to face him; but was caught off–guard as he kissed her.

For a minute or two, Beryl was unable to comprehend the fact that her psychopathic companion was kissing her, a virtual stranger to him outside work, and with as much passion as any guy to his long–term girlfriend; but one sure thing was that his display of affection was slowly wearing down her defense.

She found herself kissing him back.

Catching herself in the act as Aces gently pushed her against the passenger door and began kissing her neck, the redhead stood up straight, taking hold of her partner–in–crime's hand around her waist.

"I'm not _her_ ," she stated firmly, wanting to end the ridiculous session as soon as possible.

"I never said you were".

He silenced her by again pressing his lips into hers, and this time passion took over.

"Ace," Beryl breathed into his neck, her fingers entangled in his hair as she felt his lips on her shoulders, his hands sliding under her tight tube top, and the warmth from his body pressing against her. Preoccupied as they were with each other, neither of them noticed a beam of headlights from afar and the roaring sound of motorcycles approaching.

"GET A ROOM YOU TWO!"

The leader shouted as s/he sped by, a teal–haired lady holding on to said person's waist, and laughter filled the air as the road swelled up in dust.

In an unexpected movement, Aces straightened, sheltering his redhead partner–in–crime from the blinding headlights and road dust, all the while looking into her confused eyes with a surprisingly gentle smile.

Beryl was perplexed, to say the least.

Getting physical she could understand, but acting as a human shield for her against something else? That level of care was not something she expected from a colleague, much less from a psychopathic one.

Whatever twisted game he was playing, she wanted no part of it.

She removed herself from his embrace as the last motorcycle disappeared from view, shooting him a scathing "Thanks, but no thanks" over her shoulder as she opened the car door, confronting the newly–woken brunette.

Moments later, the black car disappeared into darkness, leaving the confused but otherwise unharmed Copper–chan on the outskirt highway.

"Feeling generous tonight, aren't we?" Aces eyed Beryl from the corner of his eyes as he made a sharp left turn.

"For future entertainment," the redhead shrugged.

"Entertainment, you said?" the short–haired man smirked at her as he reached for her hand resting near the cup–holder.

"As I said, thanks, but no thanks."

"Ah, being difficult, I see." Aces smirked.

Time to _play_.

* * *

 _Meanwhile, at the taxi depot._

Leaning against a lone car at one end of the employee parking lot, Mina stifled a yawn, thoughts of Copper–chan being left alone in Ace's clutch still raw on her mind as a fresh wound, opening up the mental path to her past that had never been properly sealed.

"Sorry for the wait, V" she looked up to see Kale exiting the employee lounge nearby, holding toward her a can of black iced coffee, another identical one in his other hand, complete with a lunch bag.

"It's no problem," she gave him a small smile, signaling for him to simply throw her the canned coffee, which he did and she caught with extreme ease.

 _Who'd have thought a psychopathic serial killer the likes of Ace had time to hone the catching skills of his protégé?_ , he mused. Sure, any bumbling idiot could catch a thrown object. But there was a fluidity, swiftness and grace to trained movements that only trained eyes could recognize.

"Shall we?" he smiled at her, holding the car door open.

* * *

 _Back on the outskirt highway, fifteen minutes after Aces and Beryl left._

Sheer willpower was the only thing that kept the short–haired brunette going as her legs threatened to give out. _I have to find Mina... have to ask her why..._

The fatigue, the stress, and the trauma won out, however, and Copper–chan threw all her street caution into the wind to flag down the next car driving by, which happened to be a red sports car with a single driver in it. She hopped in without the person's consent, planning to ask him to drive her back to the city as she took in the full sight of him and screamed.

"WHAT THE HELL?"

"Don't 'what the hell' me!" – the driver screamed back as he turned beet red. "Do you want the ride or not?"

"With a pervert wearing only a pair of boxers? NO THANKS!"– she attempted to exit the vehicle when he grabbed hold of her hand. She turned to him, mustering up all her remaining strength as she narrowed her eyes, recalling how Mina– _why, Mina?_ –had handled a creep a while back.

"If you do what you're planning to do, I'll scream bloody murder. You hear me?"

"Fine," the auburn–haired driver sighed. "Get out, then. Just for the record, though, I'm not who you think I am."

"What, you're an alien pervert?"

"IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!"

All the frustration and impatience suppressed throughout the night exploded in a few words, and Copper–chan stared at him, unsure of how to proceed. A part of her trusted the stranger, but another, more skeptical part kept nagging at her.

"Accidentally driving to the highway with only boxers on?"

If possible, the man grew redder and redder after each punctuated word.

"It's not like you haven't seen this before!"

"Who do you think I am?" Rage, and in some part, hurt, were swelling inside the short–haired brunette.

"Someone with access to a TV? Hello? What decade is this? Promo videos are even more explicit!"

She stared at him for another minute, then burst out laughing.

That set off a train of rambling comments about how he was chased from the outskirt highway to the center of Toronto by a whole lot of raging bikers while he had not provoked them in any way, then back outside city boundaries, had his tire blown, was forced to "buy" one from his pursuers at the cost of every fashion item he had on at the time, while his wallet was left untouched.

"All because those are imported clothing," he sat fuming as Copper–chan, despite her overwhelming fatigue, could not stop laughing "I insisted on paying by cash and they declined, citing some old gang rules about trading and exchange, and then..."

Wiping tears from her eyes from hysterical laughter, the short–haired brunette grinned as the "new boy" as she was beginning to refer to him continued the ramble about his "accident". If her time on the streets and around bikers had taught her anything...

"There is no such rule – she finally stated, her grin growing wider – in other words, you got played."

"WHAT?"

* * *

 _Half an hour later._

"Woman, you have to tell me where you live."

"No." It's not like she had a home of her own to go back to, anyway, now that the old room was blown to bits.

"I can't ditch you in the middle of nowhere."

"It's downtown Toronto".

"Exactly!" The auburn–haired man tapped his fingers impatiently on the wheel, shaking his head.

"Don't be difficult; I'm trying to help you here."

"I don't know who you are."

He narrowed his eyes, turning to look at her.

"It's not that you don't know me. It's that you don't know me well enough to give me your home address. Need your memory jogged, woman? I'm the driver who was unfortunate enough to be stripped of all his clothing by a bunch of pranking bikers?" he hissed the word _prank_ , evidently not quite over the humiliation yet. "The driver who did you a favour just now by driving you back from the outskirt highway where you got abandoned?"

 _Home..._

 _Abandoned..._

He had meant it differently, referring to whoever it was that ditched her outside Toronto, which she hadn't let him know yet. But deep in her, the word reminded her of an open wound that hadn't yet stopped bleeding, about a friend who promised to always rescue and protect her, who had kept her words until the most crucial moment, and who had been underneath the surface of her thoughts ever since.

The copper–haired girl snapped.

"Whoever said I was abandoned?"

Noticing the tears that had quickly welled up at the corner of her eyes despite the tough exterior and the slowly reddening face, the driver mentally smacked himself. No wonder Zoicite kept calling him Captain Oblivious. Nephrite had never been one delicate enough with his words, especially when he had other concerns in mind. He was a simple man, who often shared his thoughts without carefully polishing the words as others usually did. It was his strength, and also his weakness.

"Whoever said it is unimportant," he quickly deflected the subject "Now I need your address to take you home, because even though I'm in a pair of boxers unfairly, I'm still a gentleman who can't ditch his passenger in the dark."

Copper–chan was not listening any more.

"Hey..." she said after a few minutes sitting in silence "have... have you ever been abandoned?"

"If you mean ditched by roadside in the middle of the night, no. I've been with a vehicle for longer than I have been with any woman," Nephrite chuckled darkly, the humourless joke he said himself had conjured up images of a long–gone past he desperately wanted to forget, but also wanted it to resume. Of a long–haired lady, the scent of her hair, the grace of her movement... all that he needed to assure him he was _home_.

"But if you meant in the metaphorical sense... I haven't been, but I was." His eyes took on a far–away glaze.

"I... was the one who did the abandoning. I was on the side of whoever it was that the dreaded word reminded you of."

The copper–haired girl stared at him, unwilling to believe, to hear, to see yet another living example of the crimes she had been convicting her former roommate of. Here was a man who willingly stopped to help a complete stranger... there was no way he could have done something so heartless, so despicable... yet remained so calm, so unaffected, so nonchalant even... telling it like a story he heard from an outsider, not one he perpetrated.

And suddenly she wondered if the blonde she had thought was her friend was doing the same thing, recounting the experience that meant so much to her just like a distant tale, one she had been forced into but luckily got out of.

Listening in on the silver–haired captor's conversation, she had heard enough to deduce that Mina was not a member of her underground world like she had claimed to be. The blonde was in undercover... which meant... the memories they had shared and cherished were all just an act.

 _Were the laughter, the tears, the comforting shoulder even real_?

Shaking her head violently to get rid of the terrifying conclusion, she looked at the auburn–haired driver again, still not wanting to believe that there existed a world where promises could be taken so lightly, where abandonment of someone did not seem to have the same effect on the abandoner as it did on the abandoned.

"... why?" she choked out, not wanting to hear anything, yet desperately seeking an answer, an explanation, a justification... anything that could help her retain memories of her blonde ex–roommate in a more positive light.

"Why?" she repeated, her eyes boring into the driver's sideway face as if she wanted to see deep into his soul.

"Why?" he laughed to himself, but the laughter was not what she had heard during their conversation along the drive–no, it was a bitter sound, hollow, empty, one that sent chills down her spine and reminded her vividly of her captors. But before she could fall back into the dark pit of recent experiences, he continued.

"Why... Because it was the right thing to do. She was pure, and I was... _not_. I couldn't protect her any other way."

"Coward."

Nephrite almost snapped his neck as he turned toward her in surprised anger... and was that a shadow of guilt flashing on his face?

"What was that?"

"I said, _coward_ " the copper–haired girl turned to him, projecting all the anger, disappointment, disapproval, hurt, pain... all that she had been suppressing ever since she was forced to leave with her captors, at what she deemed an inadequate explanation, resurfaced.

"All you did was running away when that person needed you the most. Instead of healing the hurt together... you dug it deeper. You let that person down. You hurt her."

Copper–chan smirked. "You still feel guilty, don't you? You still wonder how she's doing, if she still hates you... but you don't dare to come back and make amends. You don't dare. And that told me all that you are."

She took a deep breath, looking him dead in the eyes while delivering her final verdict.

"A coward."

Nephrite gripped the wheel, trying his best to suppress the memories that had been resurfacing, resisting the urge to put the girl in her place. He was notorious for his temper... and she was challenging him, he could tell via the corner of his eyes, piling up all the hurt from her experiences onto his intense guilt, the unresolved link in his past.

"Out."

"What?" She blinked, not expecting that reaction.

"You wanted to get out on this dark street, wander in this metropolis, chewing over and over on the hurt that had been wrongly pushed onto you by another... then do it. Do it, if it pleases you. But get out of my car. The only person who could condemn me over that... it's _her_ , and only _her_. Not I, and certainly not you. Not someone who tries to sort out her own issues by projecting it onto another."

The door opened, and before Nephrite could take in the whiff of cold air, it slammed shut. He watched her copper hair flying behind her as she ran around the dark corner before starting the engine and drove away, his mind filled with the image of another lady and all that he had been cherishing about their mutual past, working his nerves so he could best suppress the longing to be back to that past once again.

Deep in his own thoughts, the auburn–haired man did not notice a car parked on the other side of the road, in which sat a silver–haired man behind the wheel.

A corner of his lips curved up as he watched the unmarked sports car speeding away, Aces smirked in satisfaction, noting to himself that almost all the players in the game had appeared.

* * *

 _Back at the apartment complex._

"To recap, Mina and Mako–chan called within minutes of each other to say they would be out for a bit, after we here received the late–night news report that the location Mina used to stay undercover at is destroyed with what seemed to be a time bomb, and the one casualty is the oil tycoon's secretary she stole data from?"

Rei nodded to her blonde leader, adding:

"Mina's former roommate, Naru Osaka, affectionately nicknamed Copper–chan because of her hair colour, was held hostage by Ace and taken to God–knows–where, correct?"

"Yes," Ami answered, not looking up from her tablet "and from the preliminary report, she was at least uninjured."

"But gone."

At their leader's conclusion, the raven–haired woman looked down, dejected. As a team they had always tried to avoid collateral damage... and this time, such an important mission had already killed one civilian - it didn't matter much that said civilian was the sleazy kind - coupled with another's disappearance.

"That could be why Mina didn't return," Usagi mused "She's blamed herself again."

"But why were the calls separated? They left together."

"They couldn't have been separated on scene, Mina didn't have another means of transportation."

Ami frowned, but she hadn't had time to add her two cents to the conversation when her own cell phone rang.

"Who's... oh, Ryo–kun."

Rei eyed her blue–haired friend curiously.

"Why would your boyfriend call so late?"

Ami didn't have time to answer. Ryo Urawa hated being kept on hold when he called.

"Hello, Ryo–kun?"

"I'm at home, why?"

"Eh?"

"You're... joking... right?"

"Come on, Ryo–kun, it's not funny. Don't joke like..."

"No no, I didn't mean to sound like that... I'm not ordering you around... I'm just..."

"No... wait! Hello? Ryo–kun? Hello?"

"I have to call him back," Ami muttered, suddenly forgetting she was in the same room as her two roommates. Rei glanced at Usagi, unsure of what could have transpired when her own cell phone rang, reminding her she had a text.

"What the... oh dear, can't he just go to bed? Drunken idiot..."

"Who's that?" – Usagi eyed her curiously.

"Who else?"

Usagi held in a chuckle. For all she knew, Jefferson seemed quite taken with her raven–haired teammate. Too bad Rei was too stubborn to even notice.

 _Why don't you just get some rest like normal people, sir?_ Rei glared at her own cell phone, as if the irritation was transmissible by text messages.

 _Ouch. Are you calling me abnormal, Rei?_ , came the reply.

"He broke up with me."

"What?" – Rei whipped around, uncertain if Ami had actually said what she just heard.

"Ryo broke up with me." Ami sat herself down on the couch, clutching her phone, still not believing what had just happened.

They had been together for three years, ever since they met at the laboratory Ami had been supervising a project at. Ryo was her assistant, with whom she had been inseparable ever since he asked her out over an after–hours cocktail. More importantly... he had been her sanctuary after every mission, the safe place she could come back to and relax herself.

All that they had together was then the past.

The blue–haired genius stood up just as abruptly and disappeared behind the blue door of her bedroom before anyone could add in a word.

Usagi looked over at Rei, worry evident in her eyes. Among the team, Ami was the one with the most fragile trust and even more delicate sense of loyalty. Trust was not her forte, and the bluenette thought the worse of almost everyone in an attempt of preventing possible hurt to herself.

And when Urawa made an attempt to open that closed door, Usagi had been more than pleased to see her friend starting to walk out of the shell, loneliness gradually being shed away like water brushing daily by a stone on the riverbank. Then... the guy suddenly informed her of the unexpected changed feelings and breakup.

The blonde could not help narrowing her eyes in anger, even though she had been the most supportive of the two's relationship and had liked the dark–haired boy when she ran into Ami during the latter's dates sometimes, knowing without saying that he was the bluenette's type to boot, starting with physical appearance. Even though she knew the reason was most likely two–sided, the first thought that came to her mind was that next time she would like to greet Urawa with her fist.

"I knew it."

"Eh?" Usagi turned to her raven–haired teammate, curiosity mixed with confusion was evident in her voice as she sought the latter's gaze.

"That boy didn't _match_ her." Rei looked to the window, shaking her head. It was instinct that spoke through the woman, and the verdict rang true.

The bluenette chose that moment to appear from behind her door in a blue skirt that accentuated her body, reaching down past her knees, and blue high platforms with clear heels that glimmered in the living–room light.

Reading the look of panic on the raven–haired woman's face, Ami shook her head, sending the two teammates a small smile.

"Yes I heard. Yes, it's true. No, I'm not okay. I'm out to the bar a little. Let me think about it."

Those words were enough to quickly dissuade any intention Usagi had held in joining the team genius. Instead, she nodded, sending her off with a wave.

"Be safe, Ami–chan."

"I will," the blue–haired woman nodded in response, leaning a bit toward the kitchen to claim the spare keys hung next to the door, and quietly headed out.

"Rei–chan... do you think she'll be okay?" the question escaped Usagi as soon as she heard the front door closed.

The raven–haired woman chuckled. "You know Ami, Usagi. She's like a ball, she'll bounce right back up after she hit the ground. I've noticed it for a long time... but I respect Ami's decision. After all, dating colleagues is never a good idea."

 _Ding_!

"What the... oh, not again" Rei whined, taking Usagi's mind away from memories as she took out her cell phone another time, and yelled at the inanimate object as she read the new text message.

"WHAT?"

"What do you mean, 'what?'" the blonde looked at her teammate with curiosity a second time. Rei seemed clearly torn between a chuckle and a scowl, and in response she turned the phone toward her leader.

" 'Not text me after midnight'... Aww, Rei, are you saying you're a Mogwai on a texting diet? That's cute."

Usagi laughed out to herself. Only Jefferson could manage to both compliment the raven–haired woman and annoy her at the same time, with a reference to one of Rei's favourite movies, no less.

"I want to drown this thing in a glass of water. Or soap" Rei muttered as she threw her phone to the adjacent sofa and stood up, heading to the kitchen searching for a snack.

* * *

 _Elsewhere._

Wiping away her own tears, Copper–chan stood up from the alley corner she had been hiding out in, determined to figure out a way out of the unfamiliar neighbourhood so she could contact the only person who cared... who she thought cared. The male captor was able to reach her on the old phone number... she hadn't changed it yet.

Stepping out into the dim light of the deserted street, she had just started walking alongside the pavement when a car pulled up next to her.

"Where you heading, Copper– _chan_?"

The voice was all too familiar. She slowly turned around, her whole body froze in terror as she recognized the driver in the blink of an eye.

* * *

A/N: Hi, my favorite humans! As usual, thanks for reading, following and favoriting! It's been a crazy week, but I'm hoping to get another one up by the weekend. So, any guesses? Who's that guy Beryl and Aces is keeping? And for that matter, who is Aces? Who's Nephrite feeling guilty and indebted to?

Due credit: I adapted the line "That voice in your head isn't your conscience. It's your ego" from David Rossi of _Criminal Minds_. Love that show.

littlegirlmadeof: hey, thanks for the review! I always do shout-outs at the end whether a review's been written or not, so don't worry, the shout-out wasn't poking at you for feedback :) Life happens, and I don't expect chapter-by-chapter review. It's just nice to hear others are reading!

Eb: Congrats on the new job! Yeah, it's been a little rough too. I looked in the mirror one day and just don't recognize the person I see any more (cliche, I know), I sit in front of my computer and words just... didn't come, like someone mashed them up and scattered them all over. and I tried to pick them back up but they just slipped away sorta deal. So I decided to resurrect this story and hopefully my writing, trying to start slow with something familiar, you know? But I'm ok, at least.


	5. Spark from the Past

**Spark from the Past**

* * *

Tapping her fingers against the marble countertop, the bluenette rested her forehead on the other hand, trying to make sense of what had transpired over the brief phone conversation with her now ex-boyfriend and coworker.

 _"_ _Hello, Ryo–kun?"_

 _"_ _Hi Ami"_

Huh, he sounded a bit nervous _, the blue–haired woman remarked to herself, but her train of thought was interrupted before it could even proceed._

 _"_ _Where are you now?"_

 _"_ _I'm at home, why?"_

 _"_ _I have a proposition", before Ami could chime in, as was her habit, inquiring what it could have been for the usually secure Ryo to sound anxious, he blurted._

 _"_ _I think we should see other people."_

 _"_ _Eh?"_

 _"_ _You heard me Ami, we should see other people. I don't think this is working out."_

When did this happen?

Why didn't you tell me something was wrong?

Why all of a sudden this?

 _Questions after questions pounded on the bluenette's mind, but the abruptness of the breakup took her by complete surprise, and she could only choke out a few words, jumbled, confused, unworthy of her genius title._

 _"_ _You're... joking... right?"_

 _"_ _No, I'm not. Ami, stop being in denial. I... just don't feel it any more."_

 _"_ _Come on, Ryo–kun, it's not funny. Don't joke like..."_

 _"_ _You're doing that again, Ami, ordering me around. You always bring work into us, telling me what to do. I know I'm your research assistant but frankly, I'm sick of it all; didn't you even notice?"_

 _"_ _No no, I didn't mean to sound like that... I'm not ordering you around... I'm just..."_

 _"_ _Anyway, just so you know, I quit. Not quit the relationship, that's already done. I quit the lab. Found something better",_ he said it all in one breath. "Bye."

 _"_ _No... wait! Hello? Ryo–kun? Hello?"_

 _"_ _I have to call him back," Ami muttered, suddenly forgetting she was in the same room as her two roommates._

 _Dashing into her blue–walled bedroom, she dialed his number over and over again, slowly shrinking to the floor as she realized he was not going to pick up._

 _Don't feel it any more..._ Eyebrows furrowed, Ami shook her head, looking over the cocktail bar one more time, left hand running through her hair as she usually did whenever she had a thought–provoking subject.

The bar was almost empty: being 2 a.m. on a workday, most people had packed up for their comfy beds. Nor was the bartender anywhere in sight.

This was her favourite haunt, way back before she had met Usagi, and contrary to the popular belief that personal relationships constructed at the bar scene were never meant to be long–lasting, she also had found a friend and relatively reliable companion in the bartender, a blond man who talked as much as he mixed alcohol. Going by Motoki for his regulars and Blondie for any other customer, he was a simple man who knew how to enjoy life's simple pleasures, and for a while Ami did have a little crush on him, but had graduated past the infatuation stage quickly, especially when she learned he had had a fiancée for the past five years. It was a pleasant surprise to discover that Reika worked in a closely related field, and the bluenette savoured those conversations with someone who didn't see her as _too much_ of a genius for comfort. Her fiancé, on the other hand, was a bit too absent–minded and trusting at times that Ami imagined it must have caused Reika some trouble. Case in point: he usually left the bar unattended during the after–hours socializing reserved for regulars only.

Sometimes it amazed the bluenette how much trust some people had in others. If anything, trust was not her forte.

 _Could people fall out of love without noticing, though?_ Ami found herself wondering, recognizing with a mild start that the breakup news from Ryo did not hurt her as much as it should have, if she had still been deeply in love with him as she used to be. If anything, she was just... taken by surprise. Like an ambush.

And instead of drinking away the sorrow that never was, the bluenette came to the bar finding answers for questions she never voiced.

Deep in thought, Ami only noticed from the corner of her eye a striped long–sleeved shirt moving to behind the counter. Not looking up to verify the actual person, she simply laid her head onto one arm, closed her eyes as she usually did, and asked for her Mojito.

"For an evening?"

The bluenette snapped up, finding herself making eye contact with a pair of emerald eyes that looked every bit calming and gentle as they were vaguely familiar–a sense of familiarity she couldn't quite place. The man found himself unable to look away from the depth of ocean laid out in front of him, and struggling to tear his gaze away, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had seen those aqua–coloured eyes somewhere... sometime _before_... long ago.

Lucky for both, a well–placed yank broke eye contact for them.

"OUCH!"

The blond man was yanked backward, his hands instantly went to the back of his neck, and one glance told Ami he had tied his shoulder–length hair into a low ponytail, which was currently held hostage by her regular bartender.

"No seducing my fiancée's new best friend, Zois" still not releasing the hair, Motoki apologetically turned to the bluenette "sorry about that Ami, he's new, he doesn't know your preference".

"It's alright," she gave them both a small smile "but you'll pull all his hair out of its roots if you don't let go now."

"As you wish," Motoki grinned, letting go of the ponytail as suddenly as he had grabbed hold of it, and the blond called Zois almost lost balance, diving face–first into the shot glasses nearby, if the bluenette's reflexes hadn't kicked in, prompting her to prevent his dive by sticking out her arm instinctively.

"Motoki, not very nice," she chided the bartender lightly, then turned to the blond man; and almost immediately a blush started creeping up her cheeks, for he had, similarly instinctively, grabbed hold of her arm and hadn't let go.

"Whoops, sorry" Zois quickly released her arm, bowing his head a little, both from shame and embarrassment. "I didn't hurt you did I?"

Ami gave him another small smile, shaking her head.

"Judging by this... um, familiarity" she gestured to Zois' then–messed–up ponytail, earning the bartender a glare from him. "I'm guessing you're Motoki's friend. I'm Ami."

"Nice to meet you, Ami" the blond man politely shook her hand, "call me Zois".

"Why, "Zois" has a female ring to it, don't you think?" she giggled.

He pouted.

"You're acting more feminine than I am sometimes, sir, if I do say so myself", this time she laughed out loud.

"Actually, it means "life" in..."

"Greek, I know that," she smiled. Her genius reputation certainly had factual basis. "I just feel like pulling your legs a bit, I guess."

"Everyone picks on me," he half–whined; and Motoki, cheerful as ever, high–fived Ami out of the blue.

"I'm not a high–five fan, Motoki–kun," the bluenette shook her head, rubbing her palm a little.

"But the situation called for one," the bartender grinned.

"See," Zois suddenly chimed in, his face mischievous, "she implies an agreement with my assessment that high–fiving is a pointlessly palm–hurting act".

Ami chuckled.

"Alright, alright, you two geniuses, I can't beat one let alone the both of you," Motoki sighed loudly. Here are your drinks.

He left the bar to prepare for closing, and Zois walked around the counter to sit a seat away from his new acquaintance out of respect, playing with the lime on the rim of his drink.

"Gin and tonic?"

"Mojito?"

They smiled at each other.

"Cheers?" Zois offered, raising his rockglass to her own.

"Cheers," Ami nodded, taking a sip and at the same time taking notice of the blond man's sneak glance at her; she decided to start her own inquiries first.

"I gathered from the conversation that you're a highly intelligent individual?"

"I'm not sure about 'highly intelligent'," he shook his head "but people do call me a genius for my high IQ. Which is a bit silly really... I mean, you can't really gauge intelligence level entirely by that, contrary to popular beliefs that such an assessment is not only possible but also accurate."

He looked away from his glass to smile at her.

"And you, Ami?"

"Right now I lead the research team at…"

The sound of glass breaking near the end of the room rudely interrupted her answer, and both whipped around at a speed higher than ordinary people usually would. This time, however, they did not have time to observe each other's reflexes, as a disruptive scene was playing itself out in front of them.

Ami caught her breath as she recognized the dark–haired mess on the floor, near the broken glass, and her eyes unconsciously narrowed as she took notice of a girl in a shortest–possible skirt that left pretty much nothing to the imagination, yelling at Motoki, pointing wildly between the bartender and the other guy. She quickly hopped off the bar stool and approached them, closely followed by her blond companion.

"How dare you?"

"We're closing, m'am. I'm afraid you and your... friend have to move. And we haven't even talked about the amount of damage done to the VIP backroom."

Motoki sounded calm, but the emphasis made on the word friend told a different story. Indeed, he had seen the dark–haired boy many times in his establishment, but it was never empty enough – or the guy was sober enough – for him to recognize that he was Ami's boyfriend. And to the simple man with a strict code of honour he was, cheating was inexcusable.

"Ryo?"

 _Crap, Ami's still here,_ Motoki cursed inwardly, blaming himself for not checking the inner room before closing the bar to only regulars. Usually he did, but that night, his long–time friend Zois' random arrival had made him forget completely about closing duties.

 _No wonder Reika kept calling me scatter–brained_ , he thought to himself, unhappily noting the deepening frown on Ami's delicate features.

"So _this_ is why." Standing to her full height, the bluenette looked down at the girl struggling to help her companion get to his own feet, her voice icier than the bartender had ever heard.

The blond man stood to a side, hesitating to intervene into something that was not his business. His resolution changed, nevertheless, as he heard the first word out of the drunk guy's mouth, which could not have been directed at anyone else aside from the bluenette.

"Motherf... you bitch." Ryo was drunk to the point of incomprehensibility, but what he intended to say escaped nobody's train of thought.

"Prancing around the lab like a queen, suffocating me with your homemade food... who the heck do you think you are? And guess what? I found a much better offer with Obscura Inc.! Over there _geniuses like you_ ", he sneered at the phrase, "are a dime a dozen!"

Glaring at her under the dark–haired bangs, Ryo was about to continue his drunken tirade when a well–placed kick from next to Ami took him down by the stomach.

"That's for trashing the place," – Zois stepped aside to avoid collateral damage, and swiftly hit the dark–haired mess in the shoulder, making the latter cry out in pain. "That's for cheating. No one in a committed relationship deserves that." He lifted the troublemaker by the collar, continuing to surprise Ami not only with his martial arts skills but also the physical strength fairly unpredictable from such a slender man, and hauled him to the door while the short–skirt "date" followed suit, terrified.

"Now scram." He suddenly released Ryo's collar, letting the dark–haired mess fall into a drunken heap on the floor, and turned to see Motoki stare at him wide–eyed.

"You didn't know that before," the bartender looked at him, not hiding his intense surprise, his eyes twinkling with satisfaction at justice well served.

"I live alone, so I learned." Answering Motoki, but the blond man's eyes searched for Ami, ignoring another cowering, unrelated couple near the back sofa who had been standing by from the start, making no move to aid either side.

There she was, standing perfectly still, staring at the spilled red wine on the floor, her blue hair cupped around and shadowed her face, which left Zois no clue as to whether or not she was emotionally affected by the situation, or if she even bothered to display any such emotion in the first place.

Motoki followed his gaze, and sighed inwardly to himself as he nudged his friend slightly toward the bluenette, whispering. "Do me a favour and make sure she gets home safely, or Reika will have my hide as her next specimen."

Without a word, Zois stepped toward the blue–haired woman, and gently tugged on her arm – the exact same spot he had grabbed onto earlier to avoid falling face–first into the shot glasses.

"... Ami?"

She whipped around, and once again he looked into her eyes, this time startled at how cold they seemed. It was as if the ocean had frozen into ice, the twinkling as if sunshine was reflecting off its waves had disappeared like the sun itself on a moody day; and for a minute, she stared at him, unreactive, unfeeling, seemingly having frozen herself, until she looked down to his hand wrapped around her wrist, and followed him out without so much as a second word.

On the way back to the apartment complex, Zois was not entirely sure what would be an appropriate ice–breaker. Aside from giving him directions, it seemed as if the engaging bookworm from earlier had turned into an unforgiving ice queen whose only purpose was to hitch a ride home in his car like a regular taxi. And having seen her smiles, the blond man suddenly felt the surge of an inexplicable wish to bring some life back to her eyes, even at a substantial cost.

"Here will be fine," the bluenette requested, and he stopped the car, but reached out and held her left wrist gently as her other hand had been to the door handle.

"I'm sorry."

"What for?" Ami eyed him curiously, half–offended, half–grateful. She had always operated on a _I need no pity_ principle, but in his eyes, his posture, his voice, she recognized a kind of concern deeper than words. It almost felt like... he cared for her. Even though they just met... it almost felt like he cared deeply for her.

 _Nonsense_ , she chided herself mentally, upset that her current emotional state was not helping her deduction. If anything, it only escalated the situation, she sighed inwardly, turning to look into his eyes without thinking.

Deep blue met emerald green, and neither wanted to look away.

Almost naturally, the bluenette closed her eyes.

Almost naturally, the blond man leaned in.

The spontaneous kiss started out gentle, as were their respective personalities, but slowly turned sensual at the same time that it radiated something yet to be defined. She ran her hands through his ponytail, noting to herself vaguely that the feeling was so familiar yet so difficult to place. He playfully tickled the back of her head, unconsciously giving in to a sense of familiarity and security he coudn't recall having felt, but knowing with certainty he had experienced it _some_ time, _some_ where. And suddenly, losing a bit of control wasn't so much of a threat as it was willingness, readiness, and a desire for exploration.

His phone buzzed, sounding like a bullet tearing apart the almost tranquil atmosphere of the night. Their eyes simultaneously snapped open, and before Zois could call out, Ami had ripped away from his embrace and into the night, leaving the car door hanging open. Slamming the passenger door with more than mere annoyance, the blond man suddenly turned serious as he picked up the insistently ringing phone.

"Zoicite, report."

"Chief, what's wrong?" detecting the urgency in his boss' voice, Zois grudgingly pushed the longing to the back of his mind.

"We can't get a signal from Nephrite's car any more."

Around the corner, the bluenette stopped, panting, sweating after her mad dash. _What was that?_ she found her flustered side urgently questioning her rational one. The action itself could be rationalized, but what was, or triggered this sense of familiarity, security and longing she hadn't felt for the majority of her life?

And more importantly, she had to find out who that man was.

The vibration near her ankle caught her attention, and Ami quickly withdrew her cell phone from the blue leather pouch strapped near her left foot, a gift from Mina in the previous mission, answering without having time to glance at caller ID.

"Ami–chan, Mina's back... but she's not talking to anyone."

* * *

 _Roughly during the time Ami arrived at her favourite bar._

Hitting the brakes with more force than necessary, the auburn–haired man glared at his watch, highly annoyed by the coincidence that he always seemed to run into more blaring red lights than there should have been whenever he found himself in a hurry. Or rather, whenever he was in need for speeding as an outlet for his emotions.

Nephrite was not an emotional man, a trait he shared with the rest of his investigation squad from the beginning, or maybe it was years working the cutthroat magic as required of their occupation that had imposed upon them all a kind of customary silence, which slowly turned into an advantage. Years of experience had taught him, as it had brutally hammered into the mind of newcomers and forcibly displaced those that could not adapt to the lifestyle, that a display of emotions was one's huge weakness, exposed to be exploited. Of course, that was not the only lesson he had bitterly learned, for a lack of personal relationships and a shaky foundation for anything long–term were secondary, yet almost obligatory by–products.

 _It's just... good things don't happen to me often, so when they do, I get scared._

With a start, the man shook himself out of the memory surge, that one line someone he held dear had said long ago suddenly came back to him within less than a minute of waiting for the red light to turn green. He accelerated, trying to tear into the darkness illuminated under street lights, attempting to disappear into the empty night, or was it the flashback he was trying to leave behind...? For a moment, Nephrite could no longer tell which was which.

Still driving, he cursed the blonde suspect known to them under the alias of Mina V for picking such a night to withdraw from her covert operation, which in turn prompted him to actively leave the base in order to provide assistance for Kunzite, for he was the silver–haired man's second in command, both reporting back only to their chief. Next he grumbled as he recalled the diligent squad genius, who had discovered inconsistencies in a certain non–suspect blonde's schedule, specifically her appearance in places she shouldn't have known of, and speculated a bewildering, though not entirely impossible link between the chief's ex-fiancée with the mysterious V they were after; and as usual, Nephrite was switched to surveillance instead. Though of course he would have had no way of knowing it would lead to a highway stripping by a bunch of bikers with too much free time on their hands and ending with him attempting to complete his good deed of the day for an unknown copper–haired girl, only to be enraged. If he had known he was only introducing himself to more troubling thoughts, he would have avoided the task at all cost.

 _Coward._

The petite brunette's words were still ringing in his mind like a persistent wasp sting, and Nephrite simply couldn't brush the little criticism aside as easily as he would have liked to, for it was a merciless jab, albeit unknowingly, at one of the few unhealed wounds in his mind. With his understanding in psychology, he understood at least that she was misplacing on him the suppressed feelings of a recent traumatic experience; however, he could not prevent the similarities from triggering in the depths of his thought a memory he had been working to shake.

It wasn't helping that the more he looked at the girl, the more he found himself comparing her to one woman he could never forget, and to whom he probably owed the debt of a lifetime.

Of course, the copper–haired passenger was not her; he knew at least that much. Her hair was a few shades too light, her eyes was a few shades off as well, lacking the depth, sincerity, and a mischievous twinkle he never knew he had been missing until his memories flooded back. Even the way his midnight passenger carried herself was different... hell, he knew for a fact she wouldn't react all that lightly to some random guy in a pair of boxers offering her a "ride", as semantically ominous as the word itself was.

Despite the differences, he still found himself assaulted by longing, by memories so far back in his past they almost seemed to have surged back from another lifetime...

 _Coward._

Nephrite gritted his teeth. He didn't want to return to the base in such an agitated state, for he knew he would be lashing out at random parties–not that the blond Zoicite was ever innocent enough to not provoke him in some ways, but those jokes had always been of a friendly nature, like it was bound to happen between long–time comrades. He couldn't drive aimlessly any longer, however, or risked catching the attention of some late–night patrol; and with a sigh, the auburn–haired man opted for the second–best alternative.

* * *

 _Half an hour later, undisclosed location._

Makoto shot up with a start, the denim jacket wrapped around her slid effortlessly off her half–asleep body. Her eyes darted around quickly, scanning the environment for any suspicious activity. No, the rooftop was as empty as it had been when she first came, as it always had been every time she arrived seeking refuge.

This had been her safe place ever since her parents divorced. Her father was a well–known physicist with a much–lesser known interest in astronomy, and after a bitter divorce with her mother, a woman more concerned with social advancement and prestige than she was with a five–year–old bundle of energy, he had taken to observing the stars with his little girl every night, in lieu of bedtime stories that never managed to put her to bed.

She remembered vaguely the gentle caress of her hair, the excitement, and most of all the relaxed feeling as her father tucked her into bed after she fell asleep in his lap next to the telescope.

She remembered like yesterday the moment it was announced live on television, interrupting a nature show she was fond of watching, that the plane carrying him home from an overseas conference had crashed into the ocean, killing everyone on board, and violently shook her out of the sheltered life she had been leading up until that point, then unceremoniously tossed her into the streets.

Her relatives had not waited to show their motives, but she was not prepared to witness it all – the ugly dissection of her father's fortune, the hushed whispering of her classmates about how she was bad luck every time she walked by, and the last straw that had sent her running from her childhood home, a threat from her paternal aunt after she refused to go to bed at 10, that such an unruly little girl was to attend an orphanage in order to "straighten her out".

Makoto was young then, and her youth alerted a primal instinct to her plight.

 _The brunette looked up at her opponents, coughing, but no longer strong enough to wipe away the blood streaming from her head that was slowly blinding her to the dimly lit surrounding. She closed her eyes to the kicks in the stomach, the blows to her side, intending to tough it out until they became bored and left, but her blood soon run cold in her veins as she overheard their lewd discussions of yet another way, the ultimate strategy to breaking a woman once and for all, a dirty tactic only resorted to by the lowest scum of the streets, the ones with the most fragile ego and a burning desire to assert their territory no matter what._

 _After all, she was simply a young woman who had recklessly and in many ways, foolishly moved into their trading areas, seeking to make ends meet on lesser–priced drug runs that eventually got on the nerves of the dominant gang leader._

 _After all, she was simply a young woman who, in a moment of carelessness, had been lured out to a dark alley and beaten nearly into submission, save for the defiant glare she levelled at them every time they kicked her battered form._

 _After all, she was simply a young woman who, at that time, was completely defenseless in front of a bunch of power–hungry street thugs._

 _Makoto willed her eyes to open, willing herself to stand up and fight like she had initially did and succeeded in doing, if a cowardly member of the ambushers had not sneaked up on her armed with a large rock._

 _She realized, to her horror, that she could not stand up. Her legs no longer obeyed her, and in fact she wouldn't be surprised to find out she had broken a few ribs. Street thugs were the worst. Shunned by society, often abused or neglected by their families, they banded together, thirsting for the illusion of power that a pack mentality often brought about, seeking to terrorize, intimidate, rule, inadvertently replicating and expanding the very hierarchy of injustices that had pushed them into their blind alley in the first place._

 _She realized, in blind panic and self–pity, that the gang leader was now advancing on her menacingly, fully intending to flesh out his lewd threat._

 _"Leave her alone"._

 _A strange voice rang out, one she had never heard before in the area, one laden with concerns and reassurance, one that shot through her body like a bolt of lightning, forcing her to open her eyes again, trying to register in the dim light the lone figure of her saviour._

 _"What was that, fag?"_

 _"I said leave her alone."_

 _No, she wanted to scream out to him–her acute sense of hearing, despite the damages, had registered the speaker as a man–leave when you can, stranger; you're alone!; she had wanted to warn him, with her dying strength, that he was about to interrupt a wild pack of hungry wolves ready to feast upon their felled prey, and that such disruptions, especially in the urban jungle, never, ever ended well._

 _But try as she might, she could not get a vowel out._

 _Her whole body ached with each breath as she worriedly listened on, her eyes slowly widening as she heard the sound of bodies hitting the ground one by one, as if by an invisible force._

 _But that couldn't be... he was alone._

Makoto threw her head back, gazed at the stars dancing above her, and shook her ponytail lightly to release herself from the spell of a memory long past.

Try as she might, she could not deny that those follow–up months were one of the best times of her life. Next to her saviour, she could relax again, allow her mellow side to surface again... and just when she started to heal from her mental wounds, he disappeared. No warning, no notes left behind, no goodbye... he just disappeared from her life, as suddenly as he had appeared, like a breeze in the driest month of a tropical land, rare and satisfying but fleeting, never meant to last.

Sometimes she wondered if it was all a months–long daydream.

She closed her eyes, letting the wind caress her face as she lost herself once again in reminiscence.

 _For in dreams, we enter a world that is entirely our own._

With her eyes closed, her body leaned back onto the door leading downstairs right behind her, the brunette did not notice an auburn head appearing on the roof of the building opposite to hers, and with the chest–high fence on her side, neither did the newcomer notice he was not as alone, even up high, as he had hoped.

* * *

 _A little later, back at the apartment building._

Makoto carefully changed the overall paint of her vehicle back into blue – she had not bothered after the fight with Mina, or during her stargazing expedition – before pulling into the brightly lit, CCTV–monitored parking lot of the apartment complex. Cautiously casting a surveying glance over her surrounding, she slowly exited the now–blue Berlinette, her mind automatically going over the events of that night, hoping to find a better explanation of why the mission had failed.

The red sports car must have been following them for quite a time, blending in with traffic, and it was only when they turned onto more isolated areas that its presence became known to her and Mina.

 _Mina_... A twinge of guilt tugged the strings of Makoto's heart. Deep down, she knew she had no right to open up old wounds, their long–standing friendship or comradeship be damned. Everyone had something they'd prefer to leave behind – the brunette would have been no more thrilled if another teammate had dug up her past.

At the same time, though, she knew the blonde had been carrying that burden for so long, and supposedly so well–concealed, but one that peeked out every time the team encountered obstacles, especially those that, she imagined, must have bore strong resemblance to her time spent by Aces' side. She had seen the blonde shiver when she thought no one was looking, had noticed her gripping her own wrist with a free hand when she thought no one paid attention, that one time when they collaborated with the Bureau for an investigation into a string of brutal murders of a bizarrely ritualistic nature. They had been able to save the last victim alive, but the girl, who could not be any older than fifteen, was in a catatonic state, no doubt a direct consequence of what she had seen, being held captive in the sicko's basement, with the only source of light being a small window all the way up the wall, which the prisoner could only see, but never touch.

"They're better off in the dark. That way, my presence would be the only source of light within reach that they had ever known", the deranged biochemistry student had leered at his last victim with those words right before being taken away. The brunette had seen Mina's hands curled into fists, an explicit show of aggression for someone with a constantly cheerful and gentle demeanor. Nor had she missed the curious gleam in her teammate's eyes as the latter looked over the recovered victim – not sorrow, not empathy, but something mixed in between, something that drew others in with the depth of unspoken feelings just beneath the surface, something that tugged at one's heartstrings, demanding recognition but not pity, understanding but not generalizing, all mixed with a dash of eternal regret.

It was understandable, if not expected – Mina had never forgiven herself for allowing herself to be lured into Aces' clutches. The blonde was an expert at acting, but Makoto's time on the streets taught her better. Mina had been putting on a brave face on her constant run from the ghosts of her past, had been overcompensating and plunging herself into danger such as this undercover mission, trying with all her might to right what once went wrong, hoping for a release from those haunting years alongside someone she thought she could trust.

Mina had been smiling for the world, but kept her pain to herself.

But with them, she was home. And you don't need to act at home, else it wasn't home to begin with.

"Guys?" the brunette called out as she withdrew her keys and opened the door to a pair of amethyst eyes that belonged to the lone teammate lounging on the couch.

"Finally." Rei looked up from her laptop, her voice sarcastic, but her eyes were full of concern. "Mina's locked herself in her room," the raven–haired woman continued as nonchalantly as possible.

Makoto narrowed her eyes. She could hear Usahi's faint voice a few steps down the hall.

"Mina–chan, open up... please?"

"Is Mako back yet?"

"No, but..."

The blonde covered her ears with her hands, ignoring the growing worry in Usagi's voice, refusing to even crack the door a bit.

"Mina, please" the bluenette chimed in, knocking gently on the door.

"Send Mako in here when she gets back," Mina shook her head to the closed door and threw the blanket over herself.

"I'm here." The curt announcement was followed by repeated smacking sound.

 _Speak of the devil_ , Mina thought to herself and called out from under the blanket. "Stop hitting the door, you'll hurt your hand."

"Then stop hiding."

"I need some time."

The smacking became more insistent.

"Mina," the brunette raised her voice "don't make me break down the door."

No response.

"I'll count to three."

Still no response.

"Mi–na–ko."

Silence stubbornly reigned.

Usagi tugged on the brunette's sleeve from behind, fully believing she would follow through with her threat.

"One".

"Two."

"Thr..."

The door swung open. Mina stood before her teammates, hands on her hip, her golden hair in disarray, traces of tears faintly stained her face.

"What?"

The brunette gave her a stern look.

"Luna–san is waiting".

Mina averted her eyes. "Madam won't be too happy to hear... ow!"

Patience running dangerously low, Makoto had taken advantage of the distracted moment to box the blonde's ear, and dragged her past the room's threshold with the same grip.

"Kino Makoto... ow... let me... ow... go!"

"As you wish," the brunette suddenly released her reddening ear, causing Mina to stumble, but the former caught her almost immediately and held her in a tight embrace. Mina took a deep breath as Makoto released her, and the brunette looked at her encouragingly, nodding in a sisterly manner. When they turned the corner into the living room, Rei had finished setting up the necessary equipments, and waving for them to settle in, she keyed in the password.

The screen sprang to life. An image of a thirty–something woman in a black turtleneck filled the screen, purple highlights in her wavy black hair illuminated in the faint glow of the monitor, and she nodded to the whole team in greeting.

"Luna–san," everyone collectively greeted in return.

"I caught the news," she held up a hand as soon as Usagi was about to speak. "I'm assuming Naru Osaka's whereabouts remain unknown?"

"Yes, madam". Mina glanced away after her own answer, hands covering her knees, wanting to withdraw into herself as if she was part turtle.

Luna–san nodded, listening on as Usagi summarized the events of the night.

"... and that's all we've known so far, madam," the blonde leader finished and reached out, gently squeezing Mina's hand while they all waited for further instructions.

The few seconds of silence, during which only typing sounds could be heard from the other end, felt to Mina like an eternity of judgement. Luna–san was infamous for being unforgiving of mistakes, especially ones committed in junction with shrouded feelings. She braced herself for whatever criticisms that were coming her way, suddenly finding her lap a more interesting subject than making eye contact with anyone present.

Finally, the woman on the other end spoke her name.

"Venus."

"Yes, madam", the blonde looked up, determined to face the consequences of her own actions, past and present alike.

"You did well."

Mina stared at the image, startled. _No, I didn't._ The guilt flared up with her own unspoken retort, burning beneath the surface, eating away at her as if it was poison of a slowly injected kind, poison of a time she thought she had left behind, gradually consuming her to a point where she almost missed what was said next.

Luna–san twirled a stray strand of her hair, not breaking eye contact, and the blonde held her breath. "Aces is formidable. But not invincible." She gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head, and the hidden encouragement was clear.

For the first time after returning to the complex, a small smile slowly formed on Mina's face. Once again, she was reminded of why she had joined and remained with the team. Once again, unconditional acceptance and timely forgiveness.

"Sera," Luna–san turned to Usagi "proceed as planned. The shipment should arrive in one and a half day's time. Remember, none of the contraband can be allowed to make it out of the port."

"Yes, m'am."

"Ah, just now", the woman looked to her side, where, the team assumed, her netbook was located, "intel informed us that Ace will be personally receiving the shipment."

Mina's eyes widened.

"Highly unusual", the bluenette piped up. The brunette furrowed her eye brows.

"He has higher interest in Toronto than some low–level contraband."

"And we have higher interest in him than just a smuggling charge," Luna–san followed up with finality in her tone, and after a wave of dismissal from her, Rei disconnected the call. The message, though unspoken, was clear: nab Ace and whoever was pulling his strings. As deadly as he was, the psychopath was just a front, a rather violent puppet for someone else – some force far more sinister, with far grander schemes than just stirring up a city.

"One more thing", Makoto elbowed Mina lightly. "Plug in the ring. We need that picture to run our vehicle recognition software. I'll call Haruka to see if we can get a physical description".

"And I have to prepare to welcome a visiting scientist tomorrow afternoon," Ami sighed.

* * *

 _Same time, undisclosed location._

"Hey, Nephrite is back". Zoicite looked away from the display screen for the entrance security camera, and a black–haired man nodded from the farthest corner, putting down the set of cards in front of the silver–haired taxi driver. He turned back to the screen, noting that Nephrite was now approaching the elevator door in a strangely crouching manner, only to whip around again, this time hands over his eyes, shaking his head in disapproval.

"What's wrong?"

"Our racer is stripped down to his boxers," the genius shrieked indignantly. "My eyes!"

Kunzite raised an eyebrow.

"Surveillance gone horribly wrong, eh" the blond genius drawled.

"I still find the allegation that Miss Tsukino could be involved with Mina in some way outrageous," the silver–haired man remarked, calmly sipping his coffee.

"Usako is sometimes too much of a softie for her own good," the black–haired man shook his head, glancing over the ring finger on his left hand, where a faint circle was still obvious enough to be noticed.

The front door opened a crack, and the auburn–haired man slunk through in embarrassment.

"Oh quit it, pretty boy", he growled as soon as he spotted the blond man on the chair opposite the door. "As if you've never seen me this way before."

The black–haired man spat out his coffee, making Kunzite jump.

"That sounded so wrong," he blurted between cough, and Nephrite hissed "Chief!" through gritted teeth, his face turning a healthy crimson colour.

"Yeah, that swim meet traumatized me enough, thanks". Zoicite mumbled, turning back to the display screen while tossing a key over his shoulder.

"I messed with your lock", the blond man said as if it was a daily occurrence, "but I'm taking pity on you today."

Nephrite caught the key mid–air and disappeared in the direction of his quarter, grumbling all the way.

"Quite an eventful night", the black–haired man remarked, finally recovering from his coughing fit. "And you said," he turned to Kunzite "you spent the last couple of hours with Mina V?"

Zoicite whipped around again so fast his chair smacked against the desk.

"Say what now?"

* * *

 _Location undisclosed._

"Let... me... go!" Copper–chan struggled against the binds that held her to the metal chair, yelling into the darkness. She had been there for how long, she had no idea. The only source of light was all the way up the wall, forever out of reach even if she was freed from her bounds. The air felt damp, and judging by the angle of light on the floor, the petite brunette guessed she was being held captive in a basement somewhere. Her eyes had not adjusted to the darkness. It seemed a long time since she last ate, though it could merely be a few hours. Lost in an unknown space, it was not uncommon for hostages to lose track of time.

And worst of all, nobody knew she was captured off the street. Not even the kind stranger she had forgotten to thank, who had trusted her enough to let her see a glimpse of his life story, and kind enough to drive her back from the city outskirts.

There was no witness.

And nobody was coming for her.

Copper–chan grit her teeth to hold in the sob that threatened to escape her throat.

 _Nobody_.

* * *

A/N: Ta-da! So Mina has met Kunzite, Ami has met Zoicite, they're involved separately in some sort of espionage op; and as you probably gathered, Copper-chan is Naru Osaka (Usagi's best friend in the manga and anime - I think her English name is Molly? No idea.)

Oh yeah, and I'm a perfectionist so I replaced the previous chapter twice to fix some mistakes. Thanks for reading!

PS: sorry for the slur! I encountered that a lot in street thug talk, so I figured. Hope no one gets mad at that!


	6. Just Another Day

**Just Another Day**

* * *

 **My hope is on fire**

 **My dreams are for sale**

She shifted uncomfortably, rolling over on her back, her body strangely contorting as if fighting against an invisible enemy, the blanket dangling precariously off one side of the bed as sweat began to form above her eye brows.

 _Smoke surrounded her, prickling at the corner of her eyes, but even without her vision she could feel a sticky substance trickling down the side of her head._

 _Blood._

 **I dance on a wire**

 **I don't want to fail her**

 _Sounds of a fierce battle that she could not see assaulted her senses as she forced herself to her feet and broke into a wild run across the bloodied ground, careful even in her hurry not to trample over any of the fallen, praying that all hopes were not lost as she heeded her heart's call, following a telepathic connection that directed her to people who needed her the most._

 **I walk against the stream**

 **Far from what I believe in**

She gripped the corner of her pillow in an attempt to determine her surroundings. _No, this doesn't make sense... here was her bedroom..._

The pull of something unpredictable interrupted her line of reasoning, and she felt herself falling deeper into the pit of the unknown, walking along the fading corridor of nightmare lane.

 _Emanating from a dark corner behind her was a shrill laugh, devoid of humour and any trace of humanity, and instinctively, she turned on her heels, ready to face the henchman – or rather, henchwoman – of unspeakable evil, her mind suddenly clear and tranquil, prepared and assured with an experienced warrior's lifetime of knowledge._ _Red eyes bore into her with malicious curiosity, and the caricature that once was a honest soul howled with laughter again before it spoke, its voice sending chills down her spine, invading her mind with images of corpses, hopeless cries and flashes of blood spewing on the ground, threatening to sever her telepathic link, her only connection to hope and the prevailing of good over evil._

 _"_ _Why don't you admit it, little one? The person you've spent all your life protecting no longer requires anyone's protection... The deader the safer, don't you think?"_

 _Terror shot through her at that very moment as she recognized the sister-bond fading away, but she shook her head and thrust her hands forward in a surprise attack, denying to her rational mind the very conclusion it had been forming as soon as the creature opened its mouth._

 **I run towards the end**

 **Trying not to give in**

 _Before she could complete her spell, the creature vanished into a tornado of smoke that blinded her yet again, and it did not take long for the wounded warrior to realize that was merely an apparition, a decoy to delay her from reaching the ones who needed her the most._ _Cursing in a manner very unlike the usual her, she again took off in a run, focusing all her mental strength on maintaining the telepathic bond that faltered and wavered faster than the speed at which her physical body could take her to the designated location._

 _She could feel her body threatening to collapse, her limping legs threatening to give way, but still she persisted._

 _She had to find_ her _._

 **She's lost in the darkness**

 **Fading away**

 **I'm still around here**

 **Screaming her name**

 _She stopped dead in her track as the fires of hell burned skyhigh before her eyes, forming a deadly wall of defense, shielding the force of unspeakable evil within from her futile attacks, hiding from her the one person she was seeking, and as she stood in defeat, her hands hung limply at her side, she realized with horror that the hellfire was feeding off the blood dripping from her various wounds. The heat grew more intense as she once again called upon her planetary power, intended to at least decrease the inadvertent supply of power for the enemies, if her strength was no longer under her command._

 _A faint cry permeated the air, and her whole body shook uncontrollably as she took in the sound, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge the fading sister-bond. It could not be!_

 **She's haunting my dreamworld**

 **Trying to survive**

 _Sensing movement behind her back, she whipped around sharply, only for the battlefield to fade before her eyes, and within the blink of an eye, she found herself surrounded in a thick twirl of silver mist._

 _Something was burning on her forehead, and she reached up with blood dripping from the tips of her fingers only to rip her hand away in alarm, as a bright beam began to emanate from and spread on her skin, amidst the burning sensation._

 _A haunting melody began to fill the air, and even as she recognized the tune, she could not make out the words. And even as she could not understand the lyrics, the song itself called to her, awakening in her senses a strange pull, allowing her blind eyes to see, for the first time, a fading figure separated from her by the mist._

 _"_ _Please... you_ must _find her."_

 _She found herself frozen on the spot, unable to speak as the figure's message danced around her. The melody began to seep through her torn clothing like some sort of liquid, and to her surprise, she found that where it could reach her cut–open skin, a cooling sensation began to spread from the contact point, sealing away the blood._

 **My heart is frozen**

 **I'm losing my mind**

She twisted and turned on her bed, hands began flailing wildly to situate herself somewhere... anywhere, as long as she could be away from the scene of death and destruction, of lost and never found.

She was a scientist…

 _Please... find her before it's too late._

... and a scientist needed facts to work with...

She struggled to voice her question, but found she could not escape the silence spell.

... not dreams...

 _... before it's too late..._

 _... Venus..._

Mina shot up from her bed, and before rationality could return to her mind, her feet already carried her to the door, which she opened, and followed a higher calling she had yet to understand down the corridor.

 **Help me, I'm buried alive**

She was still groggy as she snapped open the blue door, heading straight for the bed Ami was thrashing about on, and proceeded to shake the latter awake from the dream that had been tormenting her, despite being half–asleep herself.

 **Buried alive**

The bluenette's eyes shot open, and she instinctively reached for the box of tissue on her night stand to wipe away the sweat that had broken out all over her forehead.

She gasped as she saw the blonde sitting on her bedside.

"Mina?"

The sound of her name jolted the blonde awake, and she stared at the bluenette open–mouthed, not sure what to make of the situation.

It was Ami who broke the awkward silence.

"How did you end up here?"

"I'm not sure myself" Mina fidgeted uncomfortably. "I just... kind of woke up and before I knew it, I was here shaking you awake."

"Thanks, Mina" the bluenette offered her a small smile, patting her friend's hand. "I'm okay now... I think. It was just a weird dream."

Something prickled at her subconscious.

"What time is it..." Ami reached for her bedside clock, still yawning. Moments later, she hastily jumped off the bed, the force of her sudden movement made the blonde bounce slightly towards the pillows.

"It's 12 pm! And the visiting scholar arrives at 2! Oh boy, why didn't my alarm go off today?"

Mina laughed at the rare sight of the team genius being in a hurry.

"Can I just nap here, Ami–chan? I'm too tired to walk back to my room."

"Sure you are," the bluenette smiled sarcastically, but waved her approval to the blonde, who promptly leaned into the messy blanket and fell asleep as if she had never awoken.

 _Find who?_

Ami pushed the burning question, the only remnant of her strange dream – _dream? But it all felt so vivid, so real, as if she had been running to that unknown destination on the bloodied battlefield_ – to the back of her mind as she prepared to leave for the lab.

Still, she could not ignore another, newly emerged question that had bothered her ever since the blonde shook her awake.

She was not screaming. Not very loudly, at least. And certainly not loudly enough to bypass the mildly soundproof barrier of her room, one she had erected out of courtesy for her friends and flatmates, for the bluenette was a workaholic that often brought her experiments home, and sometimes the chemicals did not agree with one another enough to prevent reactions and noises that outsiders would consider alarming. Then, why was _Mina_ the only one that came to her aid, while her room was at the other end of the hall?

Ami pushed that question to the back of her mind too as she slung the messenger bag over her shoulder and closed the door behind. She was a scientist, and running behind schedule or not, a scientist needed facts to work with. Not dreams. And especially not strange demands from an unknown figure for her to find Venus, while the blonde was already sleeping soundly behind the blue door, taking advantage of the lingering warmth in the blue–haired genius' bed.

 _The excitement yesterday must have followed into my sleep_ , the bluenette resigned herself to a half–hearted conclusion as she tiptoed toward the main door.

Exiting the complex and heading for the subway station, Ami wondered for the first time after she was inducted into the team, why Luna–san had assigned the five of them such peculiar code names, and why it had seemed so right to her at the time, to accept it without question.

As she progressed down the escalator, catching the train in the nick of time, she made a mental note to do some background research on their planetary namesakes.

Plopping down on an empty seat, she reached within her bag for the folder on the visiting scholar, only to freeze and almost upturned all its contents in her shock.

In her hurry to catch the subway, she had forgotten the folder. And having been tired out by last night's events, her usually genius brain could only come up with a few mismatched details.

First, the visiting scholar was male, and would be collaborating closely with her on a molecular experiment she had received funding for during the previous month. It was almost a godsend, when words from the international council on molecular research and cancer prevention arrived that they would be working together. In fact, she was pretty sure it was his presence on the team that allowed the funding application to go through so smoothly.

Secondly, he was a Greek citizen, but had lived in the States for quite a time, quickly rising in the academic community as a star prodigy, earning the respect of colleagues many years his senior with his daring ideas and humble diligence.

Thirdly, she wasn't sure how to write the welcoming banner now that all she remembered about his full name was the initials, ZZ.

It wasn't entirely her fault, though. The scholar had a habit of signing only his initials and affiliated institution on his published papers, rather than his full name as was the norm in the community. Hardly anyone faulted him for it – on the other hand, they just chalked it up to an eccentricity they so often found in geniuses. He also had a habit of avoiding conferences, preferring to communicate via emails and, well, drafts or published papers.

Kind of like the Angels' Charlie, she thought to herself, amused as she recalled the TV show – _or was it a movie?_ – that Mina was so fond of.

But back to her current dilemma: she couldn't just write "Welcome ZZ" on the banner that was to be draped across the lab door. For one thing, that was way, _way_ shorter than the banner she had bought.

* * *

The blond man looked at the building in wonder. It was far grander than he had expected, and being the humble man he was, he was not quite sure if he would fit in with the community. Despite being a well–known scientist, he certainly hadn't expected the royal treatment, and here it seemed he was close to being treated like a king.

 _Maybe I'm overthinking it_ , he consoled himself. Maybe they're just co–renting a facility and the other tenant's name is on the other side.

Resigning himself to his not–very–convincing conclusion, the blond man elected to take a walk around the building and toward the nearby park that he had caught a glimpse of on his way there.

After all, he got there way too early, probably thanks to a certain flatmate. His bedside clock had screeched in his ears, indicating he was half an hour late to the reception, causing him to dash to the subway station as fast as his tired legs would carry him while others were still blissfully sleeping.

And it was only when he was aboard that he checked his watch.

He was two hours early.

Stretching his shoulders and grumbling to himself about missed sleep and paybacks, the blond man headed for the other side of the facility.

* * *

 _A while after, back at the apartment building._

"Mina, food!"

The insistent sound of a wooden ladle knocking in distance was the first thing the blonde could hear as she groggily dug herself out of the warm blanket.

She froze as her feet touched the ground, eyes widened. _This isn't my room!_

A quick glance at the lab coat in the corner relaxed her, as she realized the familiar blue colour of the wall, and her sleepy mind began to gather the reason she was where she was. Then a delicious smell reached her nostrils, and Makoto's call from down the hall broke through the fog in her mind as she realized it was indeed way past time for breakfast. Holding a hand to her grumbling stomach, she popped open the door and poked her head out.

"Coming," her answer was cut short by a yawn.

The brunette turned, casting her a surprised glance.

"What are you doing in Ami's room?"

"Catching up on sleep," the blonde couldn't help another yawn as she walked toward her teammate and friend. "I had the strangest feeling last night that Ami was in trouble..."

"Was she?" Makoto asked sharply, and Mina smiled at the familiar mother hen reaction.

"Not quite. She was having a bad dream, and for some reason it woke me, and next thing I know, I was shaking her awake. Then she left for that reception and I was too tired to walk back."

The brunette grinned as her blonde friend yawned a third time.

"You mispronounced _lazy_ , Mina."

Mina stuck her tongue out at the taller woman, whose brows suddenly furrowed as she realized something was off with the story.

"Wait, do you mean you _heard_ her in her nightmare?"

"No," the blonde shook her head. "I don't think she was screaming, at least not when I got there, or you would've barged in before I did. I mean, your room is next to hers."

The brunette shook her head. "I didn't hear anything. I know Ami sound–proofed the room, but she promised us it was not too thick, in case someone attempted forced entry." Mina looked puzzled as she pulled out a chair.

She remains lost in thought until a plate of scrambled eggs and sautéed vegetables were laid down in front of her, and the blonde inhaled that heavenly scent she had missed so much during her time in undercover.

"Thought you might want something other than dollar store soup," Makoto grinned.

Mina smiled her thanks and picked up the fork, but not without a remark to the brunette's turned back.

"You ever feel like you just _have to_ be somewhere, Mako? I don't know how to explain it, but that strange pull dragged me to Ami before I could comprehend what was going on."

"Must be one hell of a pull," the remark rang out from the kitchen, "to be able to wake you after all the running around you did last night."

"Hey!" Mina protested indignantly, but her voice was drowned out by another's squeal.

"HEY! There's food and you meanies didn't call me up?!"

Makoto poked her head out of the kitchen.

"We haven't even started."

"STILL!"

Mina smiled to herself as the usual banter commenced near the kitchen entrance.

She hadn't realized how much she missed Usagi and the others until she sat down at the dining table, with Makoto going back to stirring something on the stove top and the blonde leader bugging them for snacks.

Indeed, she was home.

* * *

 _At the lab._

The bluenette breathed a sigh of relief as the last banner was hung up near the building entrance. Having scrambled to get all the decorations in order, including settling on a welcoming phrase she deemed satisfactory, she was ready for a cup of coffee in the break room as she suddenly felt a tug on her sleeve. Ami turned around, the smile on her lips dying as soon as she recognized the familiar figure.

"Urawa–san," she greeted calmly, her eyes colder than the man had ever seen before.

"Ami..."

"I'd prefer you refer to me by my last name, if you don't mind," she cut in, which was rather rude of her, but after what he had done, she felt the slip in courtesy was justified.

"Let's not do this, Ami", he pleaded with her as she broke into a slow stride.

"I'd prefer not to discuss my private affairs at the workplace, thank you," she remarked in a detached voice, not even sparing him a second glance as she increased her speed.

Patience running thin, Urawa grabbed her arm as soon as they walked by a side door, and dragged her out to what, she discovered while trying to regain her balance, turned out to be the parking lot adjacent to the facility entrance.

"Let me go!"

She snatched back her arm, and Urawa found himself cowering under the cold fury that emitted from her, a cold fury that for some reason, cast shiver down his spine, as if a wind gust just howled nearby.

"Listen to me!"

"What is there to listen to?" she looked at him, determined to not show any emotion.

He had abused her trust, and it was her policy to not shed tears in front of those of that ilk, for she considered emotions were a weak point that one should never expose in front of those who had hurt her.

"She was just a fling, Ami", Urawa pleaded, and the bluenette found herself looking away from those eyes that once attracted her gaze.

"She was just a temp fling, Ami," he insisted. "I just needed..."

"Something I couldn't provide, clearly."

Cutting in, she stretched to her full height, and despite being a head taller than her, Urawa stepped back, startled at the cold anger clouding her blue eyes.

"I've picked up the rest of the story here and there, Ryo", she hissed the name that she had once whispered with her eyes cast down and a blush on her cheeks. "I have heard rumours, but I didn't want to believe it, because I did choose to trust you, not second guessing anything." She made eye contact for the first time, and the man was startled into silence at the emotionless state of her normally twinkling blue orbs.

"I cooked for you because you said you liked it. I kept our relationship out of the workplace because I didn't want rumours here and there to cast doubts on you, to reflect on you in a bad light, since I am two years older and am your supervisor. I trusted you to be where you said you would be, to cancel on me when "a new idea comes up" that you somehow always forget about the next day, to..."

She held back a sob. She will not cry. In front of this man, she would not cry.

"... to mean it when you say you love me."

Ami tore her gaze away. Her voice was strained, teetering on the verge of breaking down.

"It was all a lie, wasn't it?"

"NO!" Urawa exploded, and before she could react, he had taken hold of her wrists and had her backed up against the wall.

The bluenette struggled to free herself, she had not anticipated such strength coming from an untrained civilian.

"I wasn't lying when I said I love you! I still do! She was just a fling, Ami, it means nothing! Please, Ami, look at me..."

She blocked out his voice and her own bitter inner monologue. _Yeah, temporary enough to go on for half a year. Maybe if Motoki–kun hadn't known you and some other bartenders, I wouldn't have had to know the full extent of..._

She swallowed the tears that were about to flood her eyes, and focused on a way to free herself without revealing that she was much more than just Ami Mizuno, head of the Toronto-based molecular research facility and a physically fragile woman.

It would be very satisfying to roundkick him to the moon, but she had a feeling it wouldn't do much good for her cover.

In the middle of calculations, she was taken by complete surprise as Urawa forcefully jerked her chin up and crashed his lips down to her, mumbling something about proving his love.

She raised the one free hand in disgust and slapped him across the face, her eyes narrowing in a manner very unlike the usual her.

Before either of them could take any action, a familiar voice rang out and Urawa was jerked away from her.

"What the hell do you think you're doing in broad daylight, you creep?"

"You?..." Urawa spat out, but quickly scrambled to his feet and disappeared around the corner.

"Are you okay?" the newcomer asked with concern as she continued to rub the non–existent pain on her hand, struggling to hold in her emotions.

Ami ignored the saviour as she fought against the words from flooding out with her tears...

... And failed.

She collapsed on the ground.

"Are you okay? Ami?"

"I guess" she forced out, her voice cracking, "everyone leaves me in the end..."

She choked – on her words or her tears, she wasn't sure. She felt the stranger poking her pinky finger in an awkward move meant to be comforting, and suddenly something shot through the fog of feelings that had been keeping her rational side under siege.

He had called _Ami_.

Her head shot up, and because he had been kneeling beside her and seemed to be taller than she was– _gee, even Rei was taller_ –she hit him hard on the chin.

"OUCH", he yelped and attempted to jump backward, which wasn't the wise move considering he had been kneeling on the ground, and ended up tumbling, falling flat on his back. She shot to her feet and hastily extended a hand toward her fallen saviour, only to jump backward herself in surprise.

"It's you?!"

She took in his white lab coat and the stylish suit underneath at the same time that he looked her over, and both froze as their eyes came to focus on each other's name tags.

"... Doctor?"

"Ami... Mizuno?"

* * *

Plopping down on the nearest lab chair, the bluenette tiredly rubbed her forehead.

Urawa quitting posed a problem. It took nearly a year for the grant application to be completed, and to remove a participant out of the blue, in addition to the ridiculous amount of paperwork involved, would also spell trouble to the supervisory committee that was to evaluate the end result of the research. Feeler inspection trips would ensue, distractions would commence, and the funding only ran for a limited time frame. And he knew that. Her fingers curled in anger as she realized Urawa must have planned this to be troublesome for her, in case he ever wanted her to take him back. How, she had no idea. Even as they were dating, she was always careful to separate work from her personal life, and she wouldn't take him back just because some traitorous part of her heart missed him.

There was also the problem that Urawa had actual potentials – to replace him would be difficult, to say the least. He was a diamond in the rough waiting to be polished, to shine. She laughed a little bitterly, she of all people should know, for she never dated anyone with whom she couldn't have an intelligent conversation with. Not that she had been in the dating pool much anyway, which made the betrayal–expected shattering of trust when she finally decided to open up–even worse to bear.

She shook her head lightly, clearing her mind of personal thoughts. This was her lab, here was the project she had dreamed of working on her entire life, and she wouldn't let her personal affairs interfered.

How ironic, that it was a personal motive that drove her to embarking on this journey.

 _"_ _Mom, where's dad?"_

 _Struggling with her small form to climb onto the hospital bed, the little girl shook her mother's hand slightly, voicing the question not above a whisper._

 _"_ _Mom? Didn't dad hear you're hospitalized? If I were him I'd end his business trip right away and fly to your side... I mean, a year is too long to be away from home, don't you think?"_

 _The woman weakly brushed her daughter's hair, hesitating:_

 _"_ _He..."_

 _She knew she wasn't well, nor was she ever going to get well – the official diagnosis had returned – and she was torn. Part of her wanted to protect her daughter from the brutal reality that she had been hiding from her for over a year, protect her forever, until her last breath; and the other part of her knew, even as she held her daughter close, that better late than never. She herself didn't have much time left. Could she really bear to have another deliver the terrible news to her own flesh and blood?_

 _"_ _Ami..." she gently lifted the little one's chin so blue eyes were on the same level as her own brown orbs, and felt herself a terrible person for the story she was going to tell._

 _As the words left her, as slowly as her health permitted, she watched as the twinkle of innocence and trust left her daughter's eyes, and a veil of despair, disbelief, and denial took over._

 _Together, they cried, tears reflecting off what little sunlight remained at the end of the day._

 _It was the last time her mother held Ami as she cried, genuinely and quietly, like she did when she was a child and scraped her knee. The cancerous tumor did not even spare Doctor Mizuno, Tokyo's leading surgeon, enough time for her estranged husband to return from England, wrought with guilt over walking out on her a mere year before she collapsed and was hospitalized._

 _Despite their long–held promise of lifelong commitment, their marriage had vanished slowly, like rocks being eroded under a constant stream, when they found each other more and more of a stranger as they became immersed in their personal pursuits. Before they had time to look away from their own busy lives to notice, their commonalities had evaporated like water under the desert sun. Suddenly, they didn't know where the person they had traded vows with had disappeared to._

 _"_ _Honey, do you mind lending me a hand here? Ami tripped on the steps today, she's okay, but her uniform's dirtied. Throw it in the wash for me, please?"_

 _"_ _Just a moment, I'm in the middle of drawing, hon."_

 _"_ _Please", the voice rang from the kitchen like silver bells, "it will take just a minute."_

 _"_ _If it's already dirty, it can wait."_

 _"_ _Mommy," the little girl tugged on her mother's sleeve. "I'm sorry, I need that uniform for school this afternoon…"_

 _"_ _It's okay, sweetie", the woman leaned down to give her a reassuring kiss on the cheek, but over daughter's shoulders, she couldn't help casting a resentful look at the painting room her husband was in._

The bluenette absent–mindedly ruffled her own hair as she became lost in reminiscence.

 _"_ _You were never there, father", her eyes turned ice cold as she looked at the man nervously standing in front of her, blocking her view of her mother's grave._

 _"_ _Yes... sweetie, I'm sorry. I tried, believe me Ami, I tried. It's just... it just turned out that we, me and your mother, we weren't such a good fit..."_

 _"_ _Not another word, father", she narrowed her eyes, and Mr Taylor was startled as he recognized just how much Ami resembled her late mother, whose surname she had adopted after he returned to his homeland without them, without notice, without even a goodbye._

 _"_ _If you knew it wasn't going to last, why did you bother starting it? If you wanted a housewife, why did you marry her at all?"_

 _She was looking at him with those accusing eyes, boring into his soul, searching for something, anything amid the guilt that was overcrowding his mind, anything that could answer her question, the only question she had._

 _Why he left them._

 _"_ _Ami", he extended his arms, unsure of how to proceed. In that moment, he recognized just how much he hadn't known her, his daughter, his very own flesh and blood. Even though his wife was covered to her neck with medical case after case, late–night shift after late–night shift, she still found time to understand her daughter – their daughter – at least well enough to reassure her at any time, under any circumstance. He, on the other hand, was too immersed in the imaginary world that was his paintings. If his wife already did such a good job of raising Ami, he didn't know why he should get involved and potentially messing things up in the process._

 _He didn't knew then what he now knew as his daughter stood motionless, gaze levelled at him but not seeing him–he didn't knew then what he now knew, that parenthood, especially for first–time parents like him, involved a great deal of messing up; and it was the navigating of such messes together, as parent and child, that nurtured the bond._

 _He hadn't tried to learn... he thought being there was just enough, but now he knew, that physical presence meant nothing if his mind wasn't there, in the present, holding his daughter's hand and bumbling toward fatherhood._

 _"_ _Ami," he started again, reaching for her hands, but the blue–haired woman shook her head as she turned away and broke into a run, running from him and out of his life... possibly, very likely... forever._

 _He had always wanted to be left alone, left to his own device, to solitude, where no one could disturb him, no one could enter unless under his permission; he had always lived with a push and pull dynamic, in which he only gave attention if he wanted to, living without compromises, as he always sought to do, even after getting married._

 _And as his only daughter tore around the corner and disappeared, he stood watching, frozen, realizing he had mistaken detachment for personal space._

* * *

The blond man sighed to himself as he looked into the mirror, trying to make up his mind on whether or not he should talk to Ami.

Instinctively, he knew that there was little chance for him to progress beyond a business partnership at that point. The bluenette didn't seem the type that would jump into a rebounding romance just to forget the previous disaster, no matter how the parting kiss last night could have led him to believe. Judging solely by her startled and hasty departure from the car he borrowed from Motoki, that brief moment of physical contact was more likely a primal, unconscious desire for revenge against the sorry excuse for a man she had been dating.

However, Zois couldn't simply ignore the familiar tug as he saw the cheating ex force himself on her. That pull was familiar, and not simply because it fitted his chivalrous spirit. No, that pull was familiar, for if he hadn't known better, he would have sworn he had come to her aid in such a situation before.

But that was impossible – they only just met _yesterday_.

* * *

Ami leaned back on the lab chair, lightly twirling around as the caster wheels obediently turned, making little squeaky noises on the marble ground. It was only a month until the fifth anniversary of her mother's passing, and the molecular research she had started in remembrance already encountered an obstacle with Urawa quitting. And not to mention Zois' arrival, the brilliant scientist who she happened to make out with yesterday without knowing his identity.

 _Doctor_ , she mentally amended, seeking to reinforce the business partnership aspect of their acquaintanceship. She made a mental note to ask Rei's advice on treading that particular boundary, for the raven–haired woman had to navigate similarly grey areas at her daytime job, what with all the rumours surrounding Usagi's breakup and Rei's decision to stay at her transfer position, working as personal assistant to Jadeite Jefferson, former business partner to Usagi's fiancé.

The bluenette smiled to herself as she recalled how she met the fiery teammate.

 _She kept on running, paying no mind to whether or not someone was in pursuit. All she wanted was to get away... away from the person that was legally and biologically her father, but emotionally a stranger, a deserter, someone who not only wasn't there when those who mattered the most needed him the most, but was never even really there to begin with._

 _Preoccupied as she was, she barely had enough time to stop before running straight into another figure walking quickly in the opposite direction; but still startled the other person enough for her – it was a woman, she realized within seconds – to stumble backwards, and to Ami's suprise, she noticed the lady was trembling._

 _"_ _I'm sorry," she said hastily, sticking out a hand in a courteous movement. "I..."_

 _"_ _I DON'T NEED YOUR GODDAMN CHARITY!"_

 _The bluenette stood frozen in shock–she had no idea a near miss had offended the woman so much, but surprise and slight comprehension quickly took over as she noticed the woman ripping the Bluetooth piece from her ear, throwing it on the ground and viciously crushed it under her heels._

 _It was then that the woman noticed Ami's extended hand, and taking in her confused expression, she was quick to clarify:_

 _"_ _I'm sorry, that wasn't meant for you, miss. I really should watch where I was going, but..."_

 _Without warning, the raven–haired woman slid down to the ground, and threw her arms around her own knees, evidently in an attempt to calm herself._

 _Hesitantly, Ami sat down next to the stranger, and found to her surprise that she rather enjoyed the silence that ensued between them. There they were, two strangers sitting together as if they were the oldest of friends, and neither of them found it awkward._

 _It felt... almost natural._

 _"_ _I wish my mother was here," they both spoke at the same time, inadvertently, in unison._

 _They turned to look at each other, surprise evident on their faces. The raven–haired woman looked down, shaking her head._

 _"_ _But she wouldn't be. She's very far away from me now."_

 _"_ _Mine is close by..." Ami found herself speaking, "she's... her plot is on the other side."_

 _She felt the raven–haired woman staring at her as she herself looked up at the sky, long after she had finished her sentence, and she was startled as her unlikely companion finally spoke._

 _"_ _Would you like to meet my mother? She... hers is just around the corner."_

 _Blue looked into black, and the bluenette took up her new acquaintance's strange offer._

 _"_ _I'm Ami, by the way" she stood up, speaking to the raven–haired woman's turned back._

 _"_ _Call me Rei", came the answer._

A knock on the door broke Ami's reverie. Glancing up briefly, she recognized the blonde hair peeking over the door's glass window, and taking a deep breath, she called out to her visitor.

"Please come in."

Zois poked his head in first, then cautiously cracked the door open enough to slide through.

"... Er," he stole a quick glance at her "hi."

"How can I help you, doctor?"

Ami kept her voice neutral, choosing to look at him as she would a new patient. He fidgeted nervously.

"Do you mind talking to me a little?"

"We are conversing, doctor."

He didn't miss the sarcastic undertone.

"You're much more fun when you aren't sarcastic," he pouted, and Ami couldn't suppress a giggle.

"Ah," Zois noted with noticeable relief, "now you're laughing."

"Your pout complements your feminine hairdo quite well."

"I am NOT feminine!" he protested, stomping his feet, and this time the bluenette laughed out loud at the renowned science prodigy's comical expression.

"And can you just call me Zois?" seizing the opportunity, he spoke up to a relaxed her, and immediately regretted it as all traces of humour disappeared from her face like a glass of water poured out on desert sand.

"I'm afraid not, doctor", she shook her head, avoiding his gaze, "we have a professional code of conduct that..."

Zois waved his hand emphatically, cutting her off mid–sentence.

"Please, do me that favour. Doctor... really, I always get caught off–guard whenever I hear someone refer to me by that. I'm really uncomfortable with the use of titles, and then there was that thing yesterday, when I drove you back and you ditched the car midway, and then that encounter earlier, and then that guy whatshisname almost taking a swing at me as soon as he saw me, and after that you introduce the research team and I almost fall over when I realize I have to work with him too of all people..."

"Okay, okay" Ami put her hands up in the air, returning the courtesy by cutting him off mid–sentence "I can just call you Z, doctor. I'm not comfortable with the first–name basis just yet, you understand."

"Ah, I was just going to talk to you about that..."

Again, the blond man fidgeted nervously, and before she could speak up, he blurted out.

"Whatever happened yesterday stays there, but can I just call you Ami anyway?"

The bluenette stared at him for what seemed to be an impossibly long time before a small smile broke out on her face.

"Sure."

"So", he hesitantly took a few steps toward her, sticking out his hand, "friends?"

Ami laughed, shaking his hand.

"Friends."

Inwardly, unconsciously, even as they didn't realize it, they both found a twinge of something familiar, yet faraway and almost nostalgic, as their hands touched and the word "friends" sounded in the air.

* * *

A/N: Bonus chapter, because littlegirlmadeof said a nice thing (best of luck with your final!) and I got a new follower (thanks, raya9!)

So we get more back story! By the way, guess who was on the rooftop opposite from Makoto's in the last chapter?

The parts in bold are lyrics from _Lost_ by **Within Temptation** , my favourite symphonic metal band. Maybe listen to it on Youtube as you read?


	7. Search, Probe, and Memories

**Search, Probe, and Memories**

* * *

 _At the apartment complex._

"I'm heading over to Haruka's."

Unceremoniously dumping the empty plates into the sink, the brunette announced from inside the kitchen, and Usagi only nodded a brief approval before heading outside the door to her day job. "You can get groceries too, Mako–chan," she added after a moment. "All we have left now is snack."

"And whose fault is that?" the brunette called over her shoulder, and got a soft "boo" for her rhetorical question.

Mina was about to reach for a new packet of chips when her phone rang from inside her room.

"Coming, coming," she leaped off the couch, grumbling a little along the way as she made her way into her bedroom and started searching for the device, which by that point had stopped making any sound.

"Ha!" she triumphantly emerged from the floor, dropping her clothes back into the mess she hadn't bothered to clean up after last night, and narrowly missed hitting her head on the knob of the night stand nearby.

Plopping back on the couch, she unlocked her phone with curiosity. Very few had this number, and if her teammates needed anything, they wouldn't have bothered with a text.

Her eyes widened slightly as she took in the displayed name and message.

"Hi. Just thought I'd say good morning."

"I didn't know Kale was a texter," she remarked to herself as she quickly typed in a reply.

* * *

 _Undisclosed location._

"There, that wasn't so difficult," the auburn–haired man shrugged, tossing the phone back to the silver–haired man nearby, who glanced over the sent text and sighed, obviously with discomfort.

"Yeah... that sounds kind of like me. Kind of."

"Don't take it too personal, Kunzite", the black–haired man shook his head before throwing on his suit jacket. "You just need to get to know her, not fall in love with her or anything."

"Can't you just call me by name, chief", the silver–haired man shook his head, a little irritated. "I'm off duty, after all."

"Sure, if you call me by mine." With that, the black–haired man waved his parting and left through a side door. Ten minutes later, the auburn–haired man followed.

The phone buzzed her response.

"Morning".

Unconsciously, Kunzite tightened his grip on the phone. He knew that sooner or later, the conversation would turn into pointless chatter, as it did last night when there were only them in his car.

 _"_ _Nice car."_

 _"_ _Thanks, V" the silver–haired man smiled, and after a moment, gestured toward the unopened coffee can._

 _"_ _Care to help me with that?"_

 _"_ _You mean" the blonde took hold of the can "you never learned to open a can while driving?"_

 _"_ _I prefer to stay alive or at least keep my license", he commented with a straight face, his eyes trained on the road, but couldn't help a small smile as she burst out laughing._

 _He decided then that he rather liked her smiles._

 _As soon as the thought passed his mind, agent Kunzite smacked himself mentally._

"Do you have work today?" came the next text before he could reply to the previous one.

"I'm off today."

A few minutes later.

"Why do you ask?"

"Can't I ask?"

"Right back at you."

Mina grinned at her phone, realizing she was enjoying the pointless banter. As soon as the emotion was acknowledged, Venus smacked herself mentally.

She still hadn't looked up the taxi driver in the numerous databases Mercury made accessible to the team, nor had she been able to place the feeling of familiarity that seemed to spark whenever she made eye contact with the silver–haired man who called himself Kale. A _vegetable_. Really?

"You know what would be fun to do on your day off?"

"What would that be?"

"Go watch a movie! I bet you don't have that much time watching movies, do you?"

"Oh, did your friends complain about the beer?"

"Ah, no, they just tell me to thank whoever that was that reminded me."

":) so, I know this really silly action movie, do you want to watch it at the same time?"

"How so?"

Kunzite waited with baited breath. He had managed to avoid going into details about his conversation with their subject during debriefing yesterday – it was all pointless chit chat anyway, he reassured himself, willfully ignoring the fact that he was never once for pointless chit chat, with a stranger he had only known through case files no less – but the silver–haired man didn't think a _date_ with the subject would have gone over well with his team.

"Netflix, duh :)"

Kunzite sighed with relief, keying back a "yes, just a minute" as he reached for his laptop on the opposite chair. The light had turned green, so that battery should last enough for a movie.

He froze again in mid–reach.

V, or Mina as she was known in his case files, wasn't with him. He could easily pretend to be watching whatever she was suggesting while actually working on the case.

 _Right, get to know her, become somewhat friends_ , he thought to himself, ignoring the protests from his rational side.

After all, a serial killer's former lover and partner, no matter how endearing, like a leopard, couldn't change its spots.

Right?

* * *

 _Elsewhere._

Copper–chan's head snapped up as she heard the unmistakable sound of a jiggled lock.

 _Here we go_ , she thought to herself, slightly surprised at her own nonchalance.

She had lost track of time, the only thing she had left, and she could feel her sanity fading as the light dimmed and brightened a patch of the ground, glinting from high above.

And she knew there was no escape.

She closed her eyes, ready to accept whatever – or whoever – that was coming.

The footsteps were coming closer, and a little heavy, a little mismatched, she noticed, as if the person had trouble walking on his or her own legs.

She opened her eyes a crack, and recognized the familiar hair colour of silver, she blanched.

Something was off, though.

Noises were coming outside, approaching, the noisiest Copper–chan had heard in that hellhole in the middle of nowhere. There was shouting, and moments later, as she felt strands of hair tickling her arm, on her right, around the handcuffs, and before she could make out anything but silver hair, she was shoved violently from the front, and the sensation disappeared.

Copper–chan tried to make sense of what was happening, but all she could make out in the darkness was someone with silver hair past the shoulders being led away.

 _Past the shoulders..._

Copper–chan realized with a start.

 _Past the shoulders..._ but her kidnapper back then had _short_ silver hair.

Knowing it was futile, but preferring to hold on to the fragile rather than a free fall into hopeless darkness, the copper–haired girl kept her tired eyes trained on the now–closed door, waiting again for what she was sure was a rescue attempt.

* * *

 _Location undisclosed._

 _He could_ feel _it. The slight breeze that tousled her hair, drawing his discreet glance every so often, while she stood in her respective position, unassuming of his gaze, her attention fully devoted to the duty assigned. The waft of perfume, a sweet yet alluring scent that reminded him of a cool summer night, with those annoying singing bugs she called 'cicadas' – dear Selene, how many times had she repeated the word so he could mimic the sound, how patient she was with a stranger suddenly pushed into her world, how caring – reached his nostrils, and unconsciously he slowly inhaled, savouring every moment before the bell again made its announcement of her departure._

 _He could_ hear _it. The comforting sound of her voice, the silvery laughter that bubbled from her at his sarcastic commentary on the hassle of royal formalities, the silence – the silence that sounded the tune of things to come, things in the making, things that could have been, things that might become... and with anxiety, his heart ached._

 _He could_ see _it. As abrupt as it came, the rain stopped, the sky cleared again, leaving them soaked from head to toe in their black tie attire, and she offered him a shy smile, apologizing for the rather awkward situation that neither of them had control over, while he struggled to find words, at a loss at how to address the unfamiliar desire rising within him at the sight of her usually modest dress accentuating every curve of her body._

 _As abrupt as it left, a cluster of dark clouds began to spread all over the blue sky, and again it started pouring, but to his horror, what he felt trickling through his hair at this time was no water._

 _He stood frozen in a silent scream, watching, helpless, as the strange reddish black liquid began to ooze from the now–black sky at lightning speed, dripping on him, on her, on everything around them... Wherever the liquid flowed, flowers withered, grass turned grey, and the fertile ground became a wasteland in the blink of an eye – maybe even less? – covered in black ice, frozen, unfeeling, forever damaged._

 _And it burned._

 _He stood frozen in a silent scream, all abilities to communicate seemingly ripped from his body in a matter of seconds, as the liquid burned away his senses at the same time that it charred his flesh, rendering him helpless, watching, as the woman before him spoke._

 _It was not a cry for help, not a plea for mercy, no; in a time of lethal danger, what came out of her mouth was a cry for battle, for her protégés to move forward and prove themselves superior to their teacher. The liquid must have burned her as it had burned him, charred her as it had charred him, stolen her senses, her ability to communicate as it had robbed from him; and yet there she stood, shouting a wordless cry for battle that only her prodigies could hear, and which they alone could heed._

 _And earth suddenly became a lot closer to what was left of his face. He had collapsed from the strain._

 _And he watched her_ fall _._

 _And as she fell, forever burned into his mind was the defiant smile on her lips, and all that ran through his mind was that he had never seen her more beautiful, more genuine, truer to her nature than that very moment._

 _And as a black twister tore down from the sky, as she hit the ground smiling, as the world slowly faded to black, all he could feel running through his mind, through his broken body, through the heart he could no longer hear beating... was no pain, no agony..._

 _No, it was a sense of heart–wrenching, soul–sucking regret..._

 _That he hadn't told her he_ loved _her._

He awoke to soulless laughter and agonizing pain, feeling the salty water they just dumped on him greedily eating into every inch of cut–open flesh, his eyes struggling to adjust to the stark contrast between the dangling beam of light directly above his head and the absolute darkness of his surroundings, his worn–out mind racing to determine just where he was.

"... I remember..." he whispered to no one in particular, feeling a sharp pang of pain on his forehead.

Before his mind could register the feeling, something else washed over him – something that was definitely not physical in nature, yet repulsed him to the core, and he jerked against his bonds helplessly, trying to get away from the disturbing force probing his thoughts. But all was futile – like Nephrite always teased, he was no good for a battle waged in the mysterious depths of the mind...

"What the... what the hell was that?" he exclaimed out loud. And what a funny name, he thought to himself. Nep... wait, what was it again?

The dark influence had certainly worked its magic.

"What was what, my dear friend?"

From within the darkness came a taunting voice, and the tied–up man gritted his teeth in disgust as a hand appeared next to him, brushing aside the shoulder–length silver hair that was partially blocking his vision, at the same time that a sultry voice exhaled into his ears.

"Relax, wouldn't you, dearest? It'll make it easier."

"Get away from me you freak," he spat, and continued to glare at the woman next to him, unflinchingly, even as he felt a new wound opened somewhere near his left ear and blood trickling down that side of his face.

"Now, now, that wasn't very nice," she chided, still in that sultry voice, but there was something darker, more sinister lurking inside, something that made his hair stand on ends, that which none of her antics had ever managed.

"Yeah, well I don't have to be nice," he snapped. "I'm telling you people, I've got nobody out there, I'm a loner, a dirt–poor bachelor, ya hear me?"

"Yes, we heard."

Footsteps were getting closer at the same time that the voice reached him. The hidden speaker was approaching, but slowing pace intentionally, as if to taunt him further, for it did not matter if he liked or even tolerated what he was hearing, he had no way out of it other than helplessly listening.

"Then why don't you let me go? I can guarantee you even if I walked free, no one would believe me!"

A dark chuckle echoed in his ears. "There's the negotiator we were looking for."

"What negotiator? I'm telling you you've got the wrong person! I lie to people for a living, that is all!"

"I've gotta say, that was pretty impressive," the other voice continued in the same taunting vein. "Not only did you manage to break free of your bonds, you also found our little new prize and attempted to, ah, _rescue_ her."

There was that sultry voice again, whispering into his ears, and he shuddered, not in fear, but in disgust; not in disgust at her specifically, but instinctively, at what she represented... what she embodied – what he sensed at a primal level, within the depths of his mind, where no darkness could ever reach.

"Rescue who? I can't even get myself out of here to take a goddamn leak!"

Amused laughter broke out again, this time with a mix of sadistic satisfaction.

"Ah yes, of course", the hidden speaker finally stepped into the light, a cold smirk adorned his face, one that could have been quite handsome with the short silver hair, but instead reflected the hopeless, heartless, and sinister darkness of the room they held him in.

"Of course," Aces continued, "that was the whole point, wasn't it?"

"The whole point of what? What the hell are you on about?" He yelled back in frustration.

"Oh, you'll find out soon, when she joins you," Ace shrugged, but a predatory gleam shone in his eyes. With a snap of Aces' finger, the captive felt the seductive presence next to him leave, her hair intentionally brushing his arm, and a wave of nausea hit him at the contact.

"Sure you will", the sultry voice chimed in. "Just be patient, dearest Artemis."

"I'm telling you my name is Artie, not whatever that was you people kept calling me!"

"Oh, you're adorable," the woman laughed humourlessly as she shut the door and turned to fix her makeup in the nearby mirror, letting Aces key in a new combination for the lock.

"A little off–course," the silver–haired psychopath commented as he fiddled with the code, "but all's well that ends well, eh?"

"The key is that he forgets," tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, Beryl answered, locking eyes with Ace via the mirror, her eyes burning the colour of blood.

"Right", Ace straightened, approaching her with a mysterious smile. "Forget."

And with the well–honed skill of a pickpocket–turned–hitman, he slipped an onyx bracelet off her right wrist – one adorned with red slights of ruby, created in the likelihood of blood splatter; and within seconds Beryl's eyes returned to its normal icy–blue colour.

"Do you really have to debrief both of us after every mission," complained the redhead as she turned to leave, glancing at her partner–in–crime over her shoulder with mild annoyance.

"Why call it such a formal name, Beryl dear," Ace purred as he sped up a little to walk alongside her down the narrowed hallway, "and yes, I do have to debrief both of us after every _torture_."

* * *

 _Undisclosed HQ._

"Soooooo?"

Kunzite couldn't help a chuckle at what he imagined to be a drawn–out question, said in a lazy voice, had V been with him in person. She was again texting him, seeking his thoughts on the movie they just watched "together" – that is, by accessing the same website at the same time based on her instructions – and what's more, her inquiry was delivered in a most endearing, hauntingly familiar manner.

Charm's quite the killer, the silver–haired agent caught himself mid–thought and glanced back at the corner of the room, where a monstrous pile of case files lay on his desk.

"It was an excellent movie, V. Thank you for the introduction", he exhaled the breath he didn't know he had been holding, and hit "Send" on his phone.

No matter how charming V appeared, he mustn't lose sight of his main objective – the very task that had sent him undercover as a taxi driver who "by chance" picked up Mina, the only lead they have to a serial killer thought to have been wiped off the face of the earth long ago.

* * *

 _Back at the apartment complex._

"I should have paid more attention when Ami showed me how to use that background check hack whatever thingy," Mina grumbled to the empty kitchen as she poured herself some morning coffee. Sometimes it frightened her, or rather, the lone wolf sleeping within her, to see just how tightly knit her team was, just how much they depended on one another's performance and loyalty to survive in the private–eyes–for–hire underworld.

But that's how it works, the blonde thought to herself as she returned to the living room. If she couldn't trust her teammates to at least have her back, she wouldn't be able to trust anyone else.

Not that she does trust anyone outside them, anyway.

Her phone gave off a short vibration, signaling that the taxi driver had answered her text from before. She had meant for it to be endearing, the way it had always been whenever she needed to reel in some big fish. Only this time it hadn't been pre–approved by Usagi.

Determined to find out more about this Kale person, she had decided on R.E.D., a silly action movie about a retired black–ops agent, as a way to test the new opponent. It was a silly one, but the jokes were infinitely funnier if you worked in the industry. At least if she was going to gauge his familiarity with intel services, he might as well get some enjoyment out of the process.

Mina blinked, frozen in the track of her thoughts. Who cares if he actually enjoys the movie? It was meant to be a tester move, not a...

She shook her head, refocusing on the newly received text in front of her, ignoring the fact that watching a movie together the way she and Kale did, online, seemed an awful lot like a long–distance date.

If fishing via text didn't yield any result, she might as well look him up later on the cab company's database. After all, her hacking was getting rusty.

* * *

 _Elsewhere._

Toying with strands of her hair as she typed away, the mysterious woman traced over every recorded movement on the traffic cams with a meticulousness that reflected years of practice. Sure, there was the string of bikers chasing after a little red sports car, and she could see in her mind's eye how frustrated the driver must have been, to spontaneously get tailed just as he was tailing Jupiter. Sure, there was the explosion of the rooming house and redirected traffic, with the occasional obnoxious driver honking impatiently, unaware or uncaring of the emergency situation. Sure, there was Aces and Beryl on a highway, unceremoniously dumping out Naru Osaka and speeding off to parts unknown, leaving the copper–haired girl to be picked up by that very same red sports car, only to be ditched again in the middle of downtown Toronto, and once again accosted by a familiar silver–head.

But where that vehicle headed off to after picking up Osaka a second time, the traffic cameras couldn't tell her.

A sudden pain jolted through her chest, and Luna–san gripped the desk tightly as she tried to keep her breathing even, spots of flashing black and white danced across her vision, her head aching as if a screwdriver was being hammered through it.

 _"_ _She lives three blocks away", the man pushed a strand of his long silver hair out of his face, his free arm supporting her as she limped her way to their destination._

 _"_ _Are you sure you're…", he began, but she cut him off with a fierce look._

 _"_ _I'm the only partner you've got. You're not going solo, especially now that we know Minako's supposed boyfriend works for…"_

 _A cough interrupted, and he looked at his companion worriedly as he noticed her wiping her mouth with a torn sleeve, then quickly hiding the stained spot from his inquisitive sight._

 _"_ _I'm fine, Artemis", she sighed with a hint of annoyance in her voice, and trudged on._

 _He sighed. No point fighting with a fighter; he knew that from millennia of experience working by her side. Instead, he redirected the attention to the car accident that had delayed them and injured her further in the first place._

 _"_ _Something's bugging me about that car," he began slowly. "It's all too convenient: Minako's foster parents being out of town, her_ boyfriend _decided to come pick her up earlier than expected, that car rear–ending us and conveniently jeopardizing your health some more. It's falling into place… but it's bugging me how well all the pieces are fitting."_

 _"_ _The faster we get there, the sooner we could find out what the deal is", she breathed, turning the last corner, her eyes scanning the deserted streets while trying her best to hide the extent of her injury from Artemis. He'd find out soon enough, when they get back to base, but as long as they got to Minako…_

 _She froze on the spot, her sensitive ears picking up the disconcerting noise of a clock ticking away, her eyes widened with horror and realization as an all–too–familiar, unassuming yellow Beetle peeled out of the driveway of Minako's foster house, a glint of golden hair reflecting the streetlight from the front passenger seat._

 _Before her mind could fully process the implications of what she saw, instinct drove her to the ground as her silver–haired companion mimicked her reaction, and together they rolled away from the street corner as an explosion rocked the once–quiet evening._

 _Debris rained down on them, smoke and dust assaulted her senses as she gripped her partner's hand with all her might, knowing he'd already attempted to get up and run toward the pitiful remnants of Minako's former residence._

 _"_ _Art...", she coughed, trying to make eye contact with him through the veil of gray dust slowly settling in the aftermath. "Artemis, she's gone!"_

 _"_ _He got her." The silver–haired man sunk to his knees, his head in his hands as the realization sank in._

 _They_ had _failed._

The pain subsided as Luna–san was torn from her memory, only to surge again as her vision became clouded with blood red mist, and a sinister voice rang in her ears, driving terror into her core, replaying in an instant the pains, the losses, the sacrifices of a lifetime past, to the tune of triumphant laughter and insults that she was too jaded to care for.

Gritting her teeth so hard they might fracture, she reached for a peculiar brooch at the right side of her desk, a brooch with a five–pointed star encrusted in differently colored gemstones, and the instant her fingers touched the crescent moon emblem in the middle of the item, the pain disappeared without a trace.

A triumphant look lit her amethyst eyes, and Luna–san resumed poring through the traffic camera footage with renewed determination.

Aces liked to cluster his operations, according to Minako, due to his control freak nature, and that meant wherever they took Naru Osaka was where the object of her tireless search would be.

The Senshi had come together on their own despite obstacles, but the lasting damages done in the time Minako spent with Aces in his serial–killing phase–and no doubt, the influence from Metallia that _scum_ had exposed the blonde Senshi leader to–still needed to be repaired.

And for that, they needed to find Artemis before it's too late.

* * *

A/N: Thought I was on a roll, but guess not. What a cliched way to end a chapter, eh? Oh well. Have a short chapter in the meantime, and I'll see how my muse likes me in the morning! Thanks for reading :)

Oh, I suppose you guys will recognize the brooch, no questions on that (or I'd need to hone my description further, lol) But there! Some new materials to poke at. Pretty much all the players are here and links are being established slowly. Let me know what you guys think!


	8. Memories Cut Deeper than Most

**Memories Cut Deeper than Most**

* * *

 _"_ _Why did you save me?", she asked as soon as the unknown man seated her on an upturned crate in the abandoned warehouse they just stumbled in, away from the three bleeding scums lying unconscious in that darkened alley. She was glad he had come to her aid, but to what purpose she had yet to know, and this unawareness made her wary, as her experience on the street had taught her nothing was for free._

 _"'S whate'er_ _" was his curt reply as he twisted around, inspecting himself for stray injuries, and out of nowhere–_ no, from a pocket, she amended, _one hidden so well on his jacket she almost got fooled into thinking it wasn't there_ – _pulled a roll of gauze. Twirling the roll in his hand for a couple seconds, he suddenly tossed it in her direction, and she caught it with her uninjured arm, her eyebrows rose in surprise._

 _"_ _Tape yerself up", he nodded at her nonchalantly, and turned to leave when a whispered observation from her stopped him in his tracks._

 _"_ _Why are you so kind to a stranger?"_

 _"_ _Kind?" he turned to face her, his auburn hair flying wildly with the movement. "_ Kind _?" he barked a laugh, his voice derisive as he repeated the word with incredulity, almost disbelieving that someone could apply the label to him._

 _"_ _Well you helped me and I don't know you. I think it's fair to say", the sudden pain shooting through her body as she tried to inspect the extent of her wounds reminded her she'd been holding the gauze roll rather uselessly, and suppressing a grimace, she unrolled one end with her teeth, getting the task done after two tries._

 _"_ _What kinda men see other men doin'_ that _," he spat on the ground rather than articulating the disgusting, dehumanizing act, "'n' not intervene?"_

 _She shrugged, holding the roll in her uninjured–well, less injured–arm and attempting to get the gauze to stick to the open wound on her leg, sparing him a brief glance._

 _"_ _Okay, if not kind, chivalric then"._

 _"_ Chivalric _?" He barked out another laugh, staring at her disbelievingly as she poked one end of the gauze in an attempt to make it stay on the wound she was trying to dress. "Some scums beat ya to a pulp 'n' tried_ that _on ya 'n' ya still think chivalry z alive?"_

 _"_ _Well if they killed chivalry you resurrected it", she grunted all in one breath, struggling still to treat her own wounds. "And I wasn't 'beaten to a pulp'. I was down for a moment is all"._

 _""_ _What, can't ask fer help?" he grumbled, starting in her direction. "'ere"._

 _She bit back a retort as he wrapped the gauze around her leg expertly and moved on to the next injury._

Makoto smiled at the memory. By the time he was done dressing her wounds, she looked almost like a mummy that broke out of an Egyptian tomb and _lost_ some wrapping along the way. Despite his gruff mannerisms, for the next couple months they made a nest out of the second floor of that abandoned warehouse, where she cooked makeshift meals for them both out of whatever they scavenged and stole from the farmers' market nearby, and he taught her proper ways to defend herself, rather than _the salad mix of waving arms and kicking legs_ , he called it, that made up the bulk of her street fighting. It was almost domestic, right up until that one morning she woke up to a note on the straw pillow next to her, and no trace of him anywhere she could think to look.

The blue– _teal_ , as Michiru loves to remind her–double doors coming into view as the brunette turned the corner broke her out of reminiscence, and she popped a piece of gum to anchor her in the here and now as she rang the doorbell.

"Hey kiddo," the door opened halfway as a sandy blonde poked her head out with a lop-sided, mischievous grin. "Business or pleasure?"

"Just curious about a new acquaintance, but if there is leftover lunch I'd take it."

The blonde wacked Makoto lightly on the head, sighing. "You're getting boring, kid. No time to race anymore? Heard you're going all domestic and opening up a bakery downtown someplace."

Makoto punched her on the shoulder in response and walked right in, calling out for a familiar teal–haired lady, who appeared around the corner a moment later.

"Hey Mako," she greeted, a bowl of blackberries in her hand. The brunette nodded, "Michi", walking by and stealing a lone berry as she sat down at the dining table.

"You guys remember that car yesterday?"

"Yeah, foreign breed, maledriver with long brown hair, brown eyes, dressed to the nines in Japanese racer clothes, which so happens I have in my possession at the moment. No pictures though, guy was a little shy, a great deal pissed and very embarrassed".

Makoto snorted a laugh. "Haruka, if I don't know better, I'd say you enjoy those little strip games."

"Oh I _do_ ," the sandy blonde shrugged nonchalantly, "just not for the reason people think", and she placed a tender kiss on the teal–haired Michiru for emphasis–so tender one hardly expected it from someone so abrasive in mannerism.

"Ew, mom and dad are k–i–s–s–i–n–g", Makoto pretended to cover her eyes and raised her voice to a squeak.

"Oh, we can demonstrate in details if you _reaaally_ want to know", Haruka waved her hand dismissively, her eyes twinkling with mischief, earning herself a light smack from Michiru.

"Nope, but that's my cue", the brunette dashed to the kitchen entrance, laughing, but not before snagging a brownie from the beautifully marble–coloured plate on the table, which she was sure had been painted by the teal–haired resident artist.

"Um, Mako, that's…" Michiru barely had time to complete her sentence as Makoto sprinted to the sink after taking a bite out of the brownie. "… 'Ruka's try at baking", she finished as the brunette quickly disposed of the snack in the underneath trashcan, cleansing her palate with a swig of guava juice she stole from the nearby fridge.

Makoto cleared her throat, taking another sip of juice just to be sure, and shook her head in amazement.

"I've seen you take apart a rusted engine without breaking a bolt, dismantle a brand spanking new bike, reassemble it and no one could tell the difference, especially the motorist who rode it without dying until he tried a wheelie piss drunk, but you," she inched away from the sink and toward the kitchen entrance, grinning at the sandy–haired, aspiring baker, who gave her a half–hearted glare as she picked up a baguette, "cannot cook to save your life".

"Guys…", Michiru sighed in exasperation as her mechanic–by–day, racer–by–night husband chased Makoto out the door waving a stick of French bread.

* * *

 _Elsewhere_.

Copper–chan hardly lifted her head as the door opened with a light creak, the sound of boots approaching filled her ears, a twinge of dread slowly trickled through her tired body as she recognized the smell of cologne snaking through air currents. It was almost intoxicating as it was paralyzing, knowing the silver–haired man who shot another human being point blank without a blink was coming near, yet she found herself inhaling the scent bit by bit, hesitant as one would before skydiving off a helicopter, awed and thrilled at the same time.

The human body thrived on stimulants–touch, sight, smell, hearing, taste–and being locked in a pitch black, soundproof room for who knows how long, _it wasn't that long,_ a part of her tried to convince herself in an attempt to salvage her sanity but failed. Listening to her own ragged breathing and the maddeningly steady rhythm of her heart, her physical body was yearning for a feel of what is _alive_ , a beacon in the dark, greedily taking in the _sight_ of Aces, short hair teasing the nape of his neck; the _smell_ of the man, her captor, a hint of burnt wood blended in the crackles of an open flame and something metallic, with a crack of her parched lips, she could almost _taste_ the air of outside, of freedom, of a world so far out of her reach at the moment that she could close her eyes and almost touched the lingering snow dotting Aces' silver hair, could relish hearing the deliberate steps of his approach as she would have a close friend of old; how ironic it is, that the captive had come to look forward to a vision of her abductor, the very one that deprived her of those signs of life in the first place.

Such was the twisted beauty of Stockholm Syndrome, and _something else_ older than time she sensed in the air, through a corner of her mind she didn't know exist; her other senses sharpened as her vision dulled and her mind throbbed, almost painfully, for something other than the empty darkness to focus on, which she eventually found as Aces came into full view, dressed in some sort of long–flowing dark robe, black as night with streaks of red adorning its lapel, twirling a string of black beads that shone unnaturally in the pitch black room, enveloped in a halo of bright red, the color of blood.

Before her eyes could adjust to the sudden onslaught of colors, her silver–haired captor had flashed her a predatory grin, gleaming much like a shark having cornered its prey; thrusted his hands forward, clasping the string of black beads around her neck in a swift motion, and her world exploded.

 _Visions of an auburn–haired man taking her hands in his, slowly, patiently, expertly teaching the clumsy hands of a farmer's daughter turned citadel maid how to curve her first letters, of the same man gently pushing her clumsily wrapped gift back toward her and informing her of his already–taken heart, of the same man galloping away in the direction of the newly built celestial teleportation post as she collapsed in teas near the barn door, uncomprehending why a man of earth would risk his life for a witch of the sky, unable to fathom why it hadn't been her he had chosen, unaware of tendrils of green beginning to fill her vision until they warped her mind, twisted her memories, poisoned her heart. They misdirected her actions as she got up and started running, emboldened her for the worse as she burst into the private study of the crown prince, a razor–sharp kitchen knife in hand as she hunted through each and every nook and cranny with blood red eyes, tearing apart his effects in frustration as she failed to locate what her new master sought; they blinded her with jealousy and bloodlust as she attempted to injure the Prince, while nearby a green–eyed blond man in High Guard attire snapped out of his few seconds of horrified shock to drive the trusty longsword through her heart._

 _And she fell._

 _Visions of a foul–smelling man assaulted her senses as he threw a steaming pot of boiling water in her direction, a whip's snap sounded in the air as she bit her tongue, holding in screams of pain as the searing droplets hit her skin; utter terror overwhelmed her as the man stepped forward with a sinister grin and ordered her to clean up the mess on her hands and feet, the switchblade twirling in his hands promised untold horrors should she make a sound indicating otherwise; pain shot through her foot as she stepped on some broken glass from the pot's lid and fell onto the spilled water, a bark of laughter as the man stepped closer still, his rotten breath enveloped her nose as he whispered references to his nightly visits to her room, yanking her up by the end of her pigtails when the reminder of the activities he forced upon her paralyzed the young child._

 _And she screamed._

Aces stood back with sadistic satisfaction as the brunette struggled against her binds, echoes of her mental torture reverberated through every fiber of his being, the necklace clasped around her neck crackled with a power not of this world, an all–consuming power he drank in greedily as it reached out, snaking through and widening unhealed wounds in heart and soul of all around it, branching out its corruption and subjecting every person and everything in its path to varieties of dark persuasion tailored to fit each and every one of its victims.

As sudden as it began, Copper–chan's struggle ceased, the tendrils of dark power curved around her matted hair, binding together the unsteady murmur of her heart–weakened, wounded and susceptible from reliving the worst memories of more than one lifetime, knitting shut the wounds of her vulnerable soul with threads of hatred, shuffled the remaining shreds of purity in her mind into corners unreachable through her sole effort; and as unpredictable as the corner of hell it came from, the dark power _erupted_ , lighting up her entire body with a sickly green aura, which slowly receded till the last of it disappeared into her heart.

A predatory gleam lit up Aces' eyes, satisfaction bloomed in a sinister grin, and softer than a whisper, he called out to the brunette.

"How you feelin', Copper–chan?"

"… no."

Her lips moved to answer even before her senses registered the source of that question, her whole body gave one last shudder as it gave up on fighting for the goodness within, and the brunette looked up, unafraid as she faced the captor who once chilled her to the bones, an unfamiliar sneer alight her gentle features, her once–brown eyes now shining a sickly green as twists of green–and–red tendrils danced across her fingertips.

"That name is dead and buried, as the weakling that answered to it. My name is Eridia, and Metallia my mistress".

"Correction, my darling", Aces cooed as he stepped forward to undo her restraint. "You answer to me first."

"Says who?", the brunette that was once Copper–chan retorted, a sparkling orb of green and red adorned her newly untied left hand as she hissed at the silver–haired man who freed her remaining limbs with a few electronic–sounding clicks.

"Says I", Aces responded to the display of newfound power with nonchalance, smirking as he finished his sentence, "my dear _Naru Osaka_ ".

The moment the first consonant hit her ears, the brunette doubled over in agony, for every letter that followed, the pain intensified; by the time her birth name sounded out in its entirety, her whole body felt on fire, her nerves overloaded with memories of worst times best left forgotten, and any trace of arrogant non–compliance left her body through a soft whimper.

" _S… sorry sir_ ".

"There, there", Aces laughed derisively as he held out a hand toward the squirming body on the ground, knowing full well she could not acknowledge the physical support, let alone take it, unless he verbally reversed the command. And he did, a full sixty seconds after, while she writhed in intense mental and physical pain, the survival instinct in her wanting to grasp his hand in a silent plea for the torture to stop, yet completely unable to; exactly in the span of one minute, which felt like a century to her as Aces gloated with satisfaction, the one word she desperately needed to hear flowed out of the silver–haired man in enunciated flourish.

" _Æri–_ _ẟ_ _i–a_ ".

And the agony abruptly stopped.

The moment she felt her strength returned, the brunette spun away from Aces, quickly rising to her full height as she tossed a reddish green orb in his direction, aiming to wipe the amused grin off his face. Power sizzled through the air, hungry for prey, heading straight for the silver–haired man, power that sought to consume and destroy, power that took all and left nothing but ashes; power that stopped dead in its track and reversed with a snap of Aces' fingers, returning to the surprised woman at the speed of light, knocking her off her unsteady feet and tossed her unceremoniously on the floor.

The silver–haired man gave a feral grin as he took three steps toward his fallen prey, sounding out loud the two words she had come to dread.

" _Naru Osaka_ ", her gut–wrenching scream fell on deaf ears as he kept walking forward, " _Osaka–_ darling," another cry pierced the air as he continued on with a self–satisfied smirk, "I do like them fiery, but I hate to see them dead. And what a pity it would be, to toss into the sewers someone this lovely".

He stroked her hair affectionately.

"Wouldn't it be, _Naru_ –chan?"

Her own wail drove the point home as she curled into the fetal position, her futile attempt to protect herself from intangible attacks only further cemented the sense of helplessness as Aces now stood over her, arms crossed, his critical eyes boring into the deepest corners of her soul.

"Now," he bent down yet again to brush some stray hair away from her eyes, "you are under my command, but ranked below Lady Beryl, and are never to contact the Great Leader in any way, shape, or form, without my express permission". A bone–deep coldness took over his features as he suddenly yanked her up by the hair to face him, the slight pain from his action miniscule if compared to her current state of agony, and he punctuated every word of his question with a sharp pull of her brown locks.

"Are. We. Clear?"

She weakly gasped out a "yes sir", and " _Eridia_ ", spoken curtly this time, ended her torture as quickly and efficiently as " _Naru Osaka_ " had started it.

The brunette tentatively got to her feet, the high from her newfound power already waned in face of Aces' overwhelmingly simple demonstration of superiority, and she cautiously moved after him as the man headed toward what she presumed to be the exit, leaving behind scant evidence of the sweet young girl who used to be Copper–chan.

Aces smirked confidently as he held the door for his former captive– _ever the gentleman_ , he could almost hear Beryl quipping; silently, he congratulated himself for the failsafe.

Since the dawn before time, true names had always held power, to know a true name was to win half the game, and manipulating the ever–present power of names, he had proven himself beyond useful under Metallia by ensuring that any brainwashed subjects–or as he liked to say, _persuaded allies_ , would undergo near–death agony if anyone attempted to restore their true selves–crippling mental agony, that is, the outcome of a battle waged and lost in the depths of the mind, and with this loss, any shred of sanity disappeared beyond reach.

And in desperate times–had multiple monster tales revisited through millennia not proven the efficacy of using true names to separate the person from the beast?–what better ways to reverse a loss of identity than having a loved one name the person? Only this time, the brainwashed–be it under the werewolf curse in tales of old or the ancient power of Metallia–would not survive to hear of any shared memory: for once named, the torture would escalate until it overrode any self–preservation instinct and drove the person beyond the brink of madness. No intel left to be gathered, no personhood to be recovered, for with the continual onslaught of phantom physical and mental attacks, neither memory nor identity would remain.

Allowing himself another gloating moment, Aces closed the door behind him with a resounding finality, sealing away to oblivion whatever was left of the person pre–brainwash.

* * *

 _Hope for Paws Toronto._

"Serena, could you man the front while I check up on the newcomers?"

"Take your time," the blonde continued sorting through yesterday's paperwork, only making brief eye contact with her fellow employee as the latter disappeared through a door to the back. She had been working at the animal rescue branch for nearly three years, ever since the earth–shattering argument about Rei that split her from Mamoru. Her ex–fiancé had retreated back to Tokyo shortly after that, while Usagi opted to stay in Canada, for there was something deep inside her that enjoyed the snow, the miniscule flakes that land in her hair as she twirled around, happy as a clam with the cold weather, the coziness as she curled up by the window with a steaming hot cup of cocoa–all of it, to her, was as familiar and comforting as the summer breeze, the sakura petals, and the koi ponds are to Mamo–chan.

She often wondered if she was born in the wrong country to begin with–her homeland, for all its technological advances and progression toward further integration of women into formerly male–dominated and often high–paying fields, still ran on an undercurrent of traditional gender roles, with expectations of subservience, of just _how_ enough _was_ enough education for a young woman, of worries about settling down as soon as she turned a certain age, as well as a very real double burden of housework and non–domestic paid work that most women were expected to bear alone.

She had seen it firsthand in her mother–top of the class, winner of a very prestigious scholarship the older woman still refused to name, who gave it all up because her family was neither supportive nor appreciative, and growing up, it was drilled into their heads that blood always took priority, even before oneself. She had witnessed the late–night discussions when her parents thought she and her little brother Shingo were already asleep, with her mother sometimes coming to a hysterical point amid money–related squabbles, trying in vain to persuade her father to let her rejoin the workforce. She had sat through uncomfortable talks of her future as if she wasn't even there, her parents tearing apart her academic history to weigh the pros and cons of her attending nursing school versus veterinary school, and gritted her teeth as her passion for taking care of animals was brushed aside as if it were some passing fancy that would wither with age. She had shed her tears silently those nights, hiding her emotions in a pillow and resenting the glass ceiling she was born and restricted under solely for her gender.

And then she met Mamoru, completely by coincidence, as she tumbled through the streets trying to catch her bus from her morning nursing classes to the vet office she worked at as a receptionist in the afternoons and early evenings; and he had listened, understanding of her passion for nonhuman creatures, as he sat next to her on the same bus. He had ferried her in secret, every other evening without fail, to an evenings–only class for aspiring animal technicians, had been there by her side as she announced to her stunned parents she was a grown adult capable of making life–changing decisions, and that she was exercising that right to move to Canada and study to become a vet, like she always wanted; and had proposed to her at the airport as she came back, in her third year of school, to celebrate Christmas, in front of her astonished parents who, instead of being happy for her, declared the engagement her "last act of rebellion" and loudly proclaimed a permanent ban on familial contact, particularly with Shingo, as they feared her non–traditional ways to be an ill influence on her maturing little brother.

Through it all, Mamoru stood by her side, and through it all, she had always carried the guilt of not being able to tell him her secret life as an agent under Madame Luna's management, who recruited her shortly after her acceptance into veterinary school for managing to extricate herself from a dangerous situation she stumbled into while trying to locate the right bus stop.

Reminiscence always made her sad, Usagi–or Serena as she chose to be called among her Canadian colleagues–noted duly as she returned to her task. There was always something to do at an animal rescue, and her time would be better spent helping less fortunate animals in one way or the other.

"Ding dong, this way chocolate cookies come!" Makoto's cheerful greeting caught her attention, and the blonde looked up with a big smile as she carefully nudged the pile of paperwork aside.

"How you sneak in here all the time, I have no idea", she gave a happy sigh as the aroma of freshly baked goods permeated the air, and the brunette just laughed as she plopped the basket on the counter, leaning in conspiratorially. "Easy, I distract you with food."

"Did I hear food?" the other rescue employee poked her head out of the back door and gave an appreciative sniff. "Hi Mako!"

"Hey Sandy," Makoto returned her greeting with a grin, she had known the girl with multi–coloured hair ever since Usagi started working with the rescue, and knew her secret–recipe chocolate cookies were the rainbow–haired woman's biggest weakness, save for that one Thanksgiving with the chocolate mousse. The brunette couldn't help it, though. Cooking gave her joy, and seeing people enjoy her cooking, even more so.

"Whatcha up to?" Usagi tugged at her sleeve, inquiring through a mouthful of cookies.

"Finishing up painting the new bakery", Makoto pointed to a bluish mark on her sleeve while offering Sandy some baked treats before her blonde friend ate it them all. "I should be ready for opening in a week. Just three blocks and one corner away too, so you guys can come in anytime".

"You may regret that later on super baker", the blonde teased as she reached for another cookie, and casually added as if it were an afterthought. "Did you see your adoptive sister today?"

"Yeah, and she kept talking about this model guy with a leather jacket she really wanted", the brunette gave a dramatic sigh, knowing "adoptive sister" was their code for Haruka, but having to stay cryptic about the kind of information she gave in mixed company. "I told her to just send me a picture, but she didn't have any. Lame, eh?"

Usagi nodded through another mouthful of cookies. She would have had to follow up later. Right now, there was someone else unrelated with them, there was food, and Mako-made food was her weakness.

* * *

 **A/N** : Hi humans! *comes out of hiding and waves* here is the next update, sorry I took my sweet time with it. It's been a crazy busy month! A few things:

So the whole deal with Naru Osaka/Molly (?) in the dubbed version/Copper-chan in my story (for the hair) is that I like her, but not enough to make her a Senshi/Scout. And I don't like the way she just kinda faded out of the picture after season 1, I mean once upon a time she was good friends with Usagi ffs. So I decided to give her a bigger role here, on the other side, as you can tell.

As for the brainwashing reverse-proof mechanism, the way I envision it works is like this: you get brainwashed by Metallia's power, and your true name/birth name gives her power over you. So if someone tries to undo the brainwashing by calling your name and reciting all the good and bad memories you guys had together, that power would react by making you writhe in so much agony you lose your mind, thereby tying up the loose end that you would've become if the un-brainwashing has been successful. I hope my story explanation made sense - if not, tell me!

This is a buffer chapter as I like to call the interlude before the fights - I want to flesh out my characters and sometimes I find the anime and manga rushed it a little. Will try to update faster!

 **Recap for those new to the story** : This is me rewriting the Dark Kingdom arc. The senshi and shitennou are reincarnated separately but somehow gradually find their way back together. The senshi team got put together to combat crime by Luna, who you may notice is not a cat but in human form. Unknown to the senshi who thought they're fighting Minako's ex-mentor and whatever nefarious plans he has, Luna also aims to find and recover Artemis (also in his human form) who is being held captive by Minako's ex-mentor and Beryl. There are hints that Minako's ex-mentor, Aces, knows the whole deal with Metallica while Beryl currently, seemingly does **not**. Rei works for Jadeite, and her working for Jadeite was the cause of a big argument that resulted in Usagi and Mamoru breaking up. She's in Toronto while she thinks he's back in Japan, but, well... And of course, the senshi team and the shitennou work separately under their respective leader in the Silver Millenium, but nobody knows of what the other does, not even Luna.

Given all that, any guesses as to who Aces is?

Ooh, almost forgot - Naru's new name, Eridia, is a video game reference, and _Æri–_ _ẟ_ _i–a_ is how it should sound ceremonially, to seal the bond between superior and subordinate. One of Makoto's cookies if you can guess what the game is (it's not very old)!


End file.
